


Glimpses of Life With the Devil

by stickdonkeys



Series: Glimpses through the Alphabet [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), BAMF Mazikeen (Lucifer TV), Canon typical blood and gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Chloe KNOWS, Creation of Hell, Dan Espinoza Finds Out, Dan is a Douche, Dan is not coping well, Desperate people make bad decisions, Ella Lopez Finds Out, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Gen, God is not fair, God's A+ Parenting, Gratuitous use of devil powers, Hellhounds, Kidnapping, Lilith gets the short straw, Lucifer Morningstar Being Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Maze being a demon, Maze hates feelings, Mild Blood, Minor Injuries, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pets, Step-satan fluff, Trixie Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar Bonding, lucifer formed hell, major character death was well deserved, outed by science, punishment doesnt fit the crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 99,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickdonkeys/pseuds/stickdonkeys
Summary: Glimpses into the life of the Devil, his demon, and his humans. 26 interconnected oneshots, one for each letter of the alphabet, with a coherent under-arching plot. Fluff, angst and love abound.Chapter titles:A is for AppleB is for bloodC is for CatD...DesireE...ExcessiveF...FeathersG...GoatH...HellfireI ... Ice CreamJ...  JusticeK... KnowledgeL... LightM...MaskN...NightmareO...OperationP... PianoQ...QuietR... RelaxationS... StarlightT... TerrorU... UnconditionalV... VariousW...WarmthX... XenophobicY...YearningZ...Zealot
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Lilith & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Trixie Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar, Trixie Espinoza & Mazikeen
Series: Glimpses through the Alphabet [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110572
Comments: 681
Kudos: 852
Collections: LUCIFER_FICS_





	1. A is for Apple

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Некоторые представления о жизни с Дьяволом](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736256) by [DiGrange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiGrange/pseuds/DiGrange)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You do know it wasn't really an apple, don't you, Detective?" He asked, moving into her space and placing the fruit into her palm. "Apples weren't even around yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter one! Quick reminder that the first few of these are loosely connected at best. Chloe is in the know. And this is not directly related to my other works in this fandom, though most chapters are not directly incompatible. That said, I hope you enjoy!

Chloe blinked at the red fruit in Lucifer's proffered hand in confusion. It wasn't that she wondered where he'd gotten it, more that she wondered if he knew what was going through her head as the Devil himself stood there offering her an apple grinning at her in a way that made her feel as if she simultaneously had on too many and not enough clothing. All while seeming completely oblivious to her shell shocked state.

The case they were working had led them to a local farmer's market. And not one of the nicer ones. This one was a glorified roadside stand with unpaved dirt isles between pop-up tents and fold-up tables. A few of the vendors accepted plastic using those card readers that plugged into smartphones but the vast majority were cash only. Which fit in just fine with the rest of it, the vendors all advertised themselves as small garden, all organic non-GMO heirloom seed-stock farmers. A few of the stands' offerings made it patently clear with obvious signs of insect predation. Other stands had modest sized, pretty fruits. It was clear that some of them had researched organic pest control and others … not so much. 

Their vic, Brad, had been a regular vendor with a highly sought spot that he'd earned with some of the best produce anywhere, from what the market goers said. His competitors told a different story. Apparently he got his spot at the market by sleeping with the landowner (a widowed woman) to bribe her into letting him set up early to avoid anyone else getting the spot in the first-come-first-serve arrangement the market was supposed to have. They also said that there was rumor that his produce was bigger and brighter because he was cheating on the co-ops rule against non-organic growing practices.

"No one gets tomatoes that blemish free without pesticides," one woman had said bitterly. Despite her bitterness, she hadn't killed him. Her greatest desire had been a greasy cheeseburger. Apparently her husband had become a vegan years into their marriage and she was only doing the organic vegan thing for him. Grounds for divorce down the road but not for murdering Brad.

Which left them here. Wandering the hole-in-the-wall farmer's market hoping for a break because no one they had interviewed had seemed to have reason enough to kill Brad. And certainly not as violently as to take a forked weed-puller and stab him repeatedly. His coveted spot had been taken by another vegetable farmer, one they hadn't interviewed, with sampling of produce that was _clearly_ organic and not particularly well cultivated.

"You know, marigolds will keep away most pests, darling," Lucifer was telling him as he eyed a rather chewed up head of lettuce. "But don't try the line of salt to ward off slugs it just throws off your osmotic pressure and keeps the plants from getting water, no matter how much you put out. As for the squash beatles, for them you need either dill or catnip, though why you would _want_ to attract the fell beasts I don't know."

"Lucifer," Chloe whispered, trying to pull his attention back to her rather than trading organic gardening tips with the likely murderer (which, how did _Lucifer_ , of all people, even know how to garden? He didn't even need to eat! Why would he know how to garden?)

"Yes, dear?" He asked, turning his head towards her, giving her his undivided attention.

"Maybe, rather than focusing on what you want to tell him, you might focus on what he wants to tell us?" she said, trying to remain subtle and not spook the man. She had identified herself as LAPD but he didn't know that she thought he had killed Brad. Yet. "Maybe it would help to know what he _desires."_

"Right," Lucifer agreed with a sigh. "So you think he killed Brad for this spot? What a silly reason to kill someone when he could have just done the old widow himself. I mean, I haven't seen her but that had to have been easier than killing a grown man with a garden tool." He rolled his eyes as the other man began trying to inch out the back of his tent.

"Ah, ah, ah, Robert," Lucifer said, coming around the tent to box him in with his own tables. "No running away now. That's it. Now look at me, Bob. That's it." Chloe watched, shifting a little uncomfortably as Lucifer took Bob's chin gently between his fingers, lifting his head to make eye contact and smiling softly, almost seductively, his brown eyes urging Bob that his deepest secrets were needed. 

"Now, tell me, Bobby, what is it you truly desire?" Lucifer purred. Chloe couldn't feel the urge to speak that that look and those words caused in others but clearly Bob did. As he stared into Lucifer's eyes, his jaw slack, body relaxing of it's own volition his mouth opened and words flowed.

"I wanted him to tell the truth," Bob confessed. "Everyone knew that his produce wasn't organic. There was no way. Look at mine. Or hers or any of theirs. His was too perfect. I just wanted him to admit that he used fertilizer and pesticides."

"I didn't even want him to stop selling," he explained. "Just to put up a sign or move farther back into the market and give everyone else a chance."

"But he refused," Chloe sighed. Bob nodded.

"Said it would ruin him and cast doubt on the market," Bob said.

"So you stabbed him with a weeder?" Lucifer asked incredulously. "Seems a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"I threatened to expose him," Bob said. "I'd placed a trail camera near his field. I'd caught him on tape with the chemicals. He went insane. Started yelling and saying that he was going to tell everyone that the photos were of him treating _my_ crops. I just...I lost it. There was a weeding fork on the table and I just … when he was dead I realized how ridiculous killing him was. As if anyone would ever believe my produce was anything other than organic."

"They wouldn't've," Lucifer agreed. "I don't even know that it can truly be called organic either. More like beetle fodder."

"Ehy did I do it?" He sobbed reaching for Lucifer who deftly stepped aside, a look of mild disgust on his face.

"He's all yours, Darling," he said. "You arrest this miscreant and I'll go see if there is anything worth eating here. I do love produce when it's done right." Chloe stepped up and cuffed Bob, reading him his rights and moving towards her car while Lucifer meandered through the crowd, his suit and height making him easy to spot. Not that he couldn't find his way back to the car, but he did tend to wander a bit and they had a murder to take to lock-up and a report to write. 

No sooner had she gotten Bob settled into the back than Lucifer returned, a bushel basket of mixed fruit on one hand and a red apple in the other. She watched as he took a bite, his eyes closing and a pleased smile on his face as the flavor hit her tongue. A satisfied hum rising up his throat before he swallowed. When he opened his eyes, the immediately lit with mischief. 

"Like what you see, Detective?" He asked, the tone managing to somehow convey innocence and carnal promise at the same time. She nodded, pleased to see the surprise flit across his face that she would admit it.

"I do love apples," she said with a mock serious tone, knowing exactly where his mind had gone. Besides, while the apple hadn't been what she'd been admiring, the fact that she loved apples was a true statement. It was only fair if she occasionally told him half-truths to throw him off. Especially since he enjoyed employing them so much himself.

"Then, by all means, have one," he said setting his down before picking her up another, impossibly redder one. She blinked at the proffered fruit in Lucifer's hand. She laughed softly as she wondered if he knew what was going through her head as the Devil himself stood there offering her an apple grinning at her in a way that made her feel as if she simultaneously had on too many and not enough clothing. 

After a moment he seemed to understand where her mind had gone because he smiled. Somehow looking amused and annoyed at the same time. She would never figure out how he conveyed conflicting emotions simultaneously. Maybe it was a Celestial thing?

"You do know it wasn't really an apple, don't you, Detective?" He asked, moving into her space and placing the fruit into her palm. "Apples weren't even around yet."

"Then what was it?" she asked knowing as soon as the words left her mouth that she'd regret them. She wasn't entirely wrong when his face took on a decidedly sinful grin.

"Something better shown than told," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath stirring the fine hairs on her neck and her hormones. "Something you've experienced before. Delighted in, even. After he's taken care of and the paperwork's done we can go to Lux for a refresher, if need be." She found that all she could do was nod and then he was out of her space and moving around the car with his basket of fruit. 

"Splendid," he said as he slid into the seat. "Perhaps I could even be persuaded to help with paperwork to speed it along." She shook her head knowing that his "help" would only make more work for her. She moved to take her spot in the driver's seat and grinned at the apple in her hand. Of course it wasn't really an apple. As she glanced at her partner quietly munching his way through the bushel of fruit, she had to admit he was a much better reason to fall from grace than an apple.


	2. B is for Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He gets the oddest look on his face every time he sees his own blood. Almost as if he's fascinated by it. The sight of hers, however is met with abject horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note on this one, as you can gather from the title this one involves blood from a injury. I believe have tagged the fic appropriately and don't think it's particularly graphic but as a nurse my sense of graphic is a bit warped. Me and tags are a bit of a love/hate relationship so I am always willing to adjust as people feel it is needed. Drop me a line in the comments if it needs changed.

He gets the oddest look on his face every time he sees his own blood. Almost as if he's fascinated by it. At first she had believed that it was just one of his weird kinks to go along with his insane belief that he was the Devil and the retired King of Hell. Of course the Devil would be fascinated with blood. She still wasn’t sure that it wasn’t part of it, even though she now knew that he wasn’t crazy. Lucifer was many things, crazy was not one of them. Though she _did_ think that at the moment Dan might beg to differ. 

“Dude, will you just sit down!” Dan was saying, trying to grab the Devil and force the issue as Lucifer paced, dripping blood from the gash in his arm. “You’re bleeding everywhere, man. Just stop moving and let someone have a look at it!"

“It’s only a scratch, Daniel,” Lucifer said, stopping to watch as ruby drops welled from the slice to run down his arm and drip to the floor. “It won’t kill me.” 

“I will if you don’t stop trailing blood everywhere,” Ella snapped, worried about her friend and taking her irritation at the suspect who had stabbed him out on the consultant. “This is a crime scene now, Lucifer. I have to document all the drops and you’re just scattering them everywhere. Thank God you’re alive and I don’t have to try to reconstruct that … that mess. It would be impossible. Most people don’t pace when they’re stabbed.” 

“Dad had nothing to do with it, Ms. Lopez. And it wasn’t a stab,” Lucifer corrected primly, but dutifully holding still for the little forensic scientist. “It was a slash. He got a rather good shot in, too. I wasn’t expecting that the cretin could actually handle that blade.” 

“You saw it coming and you decided to block it with your arm?” Dan demanded, trying and failing to get Lucifer to let him look at the wound. The Devil simply lifted his arm out of the reach of the shorter man while Ella glared at him and Chloe fought the simultaneous urge to leave so he could heal and stay to watch him morbidly enjoy the new sensation of bleeding. 

“It was either my arm or the Detective,” Lucifer said with a shrug. “I felt this was the better option. As I said, ‘tis but a flesh wound.” He grinned at Ella with the last bit. She shook her head and laughed a ghost of a laugh.

“Quoting Monty Python won’t get you off the hook for this mess, buddy,” she said, though her face was softer than the words. “Why couldn’t you just have stood still in shock like any other knife victim? Or run away in a _single_ direction?” 

“The Devil doesn’t do shock. And I don't run from humans,” Lucifer said, with a scathing laugh. “Even knife-wielding ones. Besides, the stabby creature was dispatched, wasn’t he? There was no need to flee.” Chloe shivered at the reminder of the huge biker cowering on the ground begging Lucifer to forgive him while Lucifer sneered imperiously down on him replying “Doubtful.” She knew he had only reacted that way because if he’d been a second later it would have been her with the knife wound rather than him and he’d been frightened for her but it was still disconcerting to see that cruel and callous side from the man who had brushed and braided her daughter’s hair the night before just because she’d commented that the princess in the movie they were watching had pretty hair and Lucifer had said he could do better. 

“Last I checked, the Devil doesn’t bleed, either,” Ella shot back. While she was usually entertained by his antics, that was quite a bit of blood on the ground and he was refusing to let anyone help him or even put pressure on it himself. She was actually rather fond of the eccentric man and didn’t want him dead due to his own stupid method acting.

“Only near miracles,” Lucifer quipped with a quick grin at his own personal miracle, who as always was shifting uncomfortably at the reminder that she alone made him vulnerable. She smiled at him sadly in return. She knew he was still at less risk than a human, but he also had shittier self-preservation instincts. Like non-existent ones. Thankfully, even vulnerable he was still far more durable than the standard human. And he was choosing to be with her, miracle-Devil-kryptonite effect included.

“Because there’s totally a miracle in this gheto-ass warehouse,” Dan sighed, turning to his ex-wife wondering why she wasn’t already forcing him to sit for the medics. She claimed to love him and he claimed it was mutual but this was a damn funny way of showing it, allowing him to bleed and not caring. Hell, some days he couldn’t decide if he liked or loathed the man and he was showing him more care than his damn girlfriend. 

“Chloe, a bit of help here,” Dan demanded as he reached for Lucifer’s arm only for him to move it again, reminding Dan a bit of someone playing with a cat with a string. And he had no doubt that he was the cat. 

“I know he’ll let you see it,” Dan continued. “Somebody with some sense needs to look at it. It’s still bleeding enough to drip and the damn fool won’t even put pressure on it himself. Help me out here!”

“Let me see, Lucifer,” Chloe said softly, moving into the area, taking care not to step on the blood trails lest Ella murder her and incur the wrath of the Devil.

“It’s really not necessary, Darling,” Lucifer promised, his dark eyes sincere, though his flesh around them seemed oddly tense. “It really is only a flesh wound.” 

“That just means it didn’t break bone or hit an organ, Lucifer,” Chloe argued, knowing that just because he didn’t lie didn’t mean he told the whole truth. “It can still be deep and need care. I know you’ll heal. I know it won’t kill you and I promise not to blame myself for it. Especially since you’re the one that decided to charge in without waiting on backup. Just let me look.” He eyed her carefully, searching for a lie and finding none. Only then did he nod and move to sit on a crate to make it easier for her to examine. She carefully unbuttoned his sleeve and rolled it up to reveal a deep gash going nearly the entire length of his left arm. She couldn’t stop her sympathetic wince, knowing that it had to hurt. 

“I'll be fine, Love,” he breathed, stroking her cheek with his right hand, wiping a tear she didn’t realize was there. “I’ve had much worse.” Despite what he said, she could see the fine tremors of pain in the muscles of his arm around the slash and the tense set of his shoulders. Pulling a pair of gloves from her back pocket, knowing they were likely cleaner than her hands she eyed his shirt sleeve contemplatively. With a huff of a laugh he brought his right hand over and ripped the cloth at the elbow handing her the lower sleeve.

“It was ruined,” he said with a shrug. “At least I had left the jacket in the car. My tailor is getting quite cross with me at this point.” Dabbing at the wound she was a bit alarmed to see that there was a white flash of bone before blood refilled and overflowed the gash once more. He hissed and reflexively pulled away a bit as she tried to put pressure on the wound before returning his arm to her grasp. He watched as the ruby liquid blossomed across the white cloth with morbid fascination. Chloe shook her head, feeling vaguely sick to her stomach. Despite her comfort with blood, seeing it pouring from Lucifer was different. She knew he’d be fine, healed and scarless in less than a week but it was still alot of blood. 

“If you were human I’d demand you go to the hospital,” Chloe told him seriously. “This is a very deep flesh wound, Lucifer. It would need stitches and antibiotics and … I don’t even know but _something_.”

“But I’m not, Darling,” Lucifer reminded her. “It’ll be closed tomorrow and gone the day after. I’ll be right as rain and no longer bleeding in an hour or so.” 

“You’re spending the night alone,” she told him sternly. “I’m not going to let you talk me out of it. Either the hospital with me or a night at home alone.” 

“Chloe, you can’t be serious!” Dan argued. “He’s bleeding. Alot. You can’t let his delusions get him killed.”

“What if they’re not delusions, Daniel?” Lucifer asked only for Dan to huff angrly and storm off saying “You’re both crazy. If he dies, _you’re_ the one explaining it to Trixie.” 

“Good night, Detective Douche,” Lucifer called after him, feeling that his last comment justified the now seldom used name. 

“Whatever,” came the reply. Rather than call after him, Lucifer and Chloe turned expectantly to Ella, who shrugged.

“Your call, Luce … ifer,” she said, looking at him with eyes that suggested that she might be considering believing him. “You’re a grown man. You want to die from a flesh wound that’s on you. But don’t come back and haunt me. I tried to get you to get help.” Then she bent to take photos of the weapon and to herself she muttered, “I’ve already got one ghost up my ass and Rae Rae doesn’t seem lonely.” Lucifer, of course, heard and wondered if this ‘Rae Rae’ might be his sister Azrael. To his knowledge Ms. Lopez had never almost died and therefore would never have met his sister 

“Did you almost die once, Ms. Lopez?” he asked suddenly. She looked at him incredulously and the Detective pressed a little more firmly that strictly necessary on his wound. He realized suddenly that this was one of those questions you weren’t supposed to ask without some lead up. Oh well, it was done now.

“Yeah,” Ella said, uncharacteristically serious.

“What does Rae Rae look like?” he asked. Chloe looked at him in confusion while Ella looked at him in embarrassment and he realized that she had been speaking quietly enough that had he been human he wouldn’t have heard her. It couldn’t be helped now. And he might as well get his answer. Maybe she would finally put the pieces together for herself.

“Small, petie, kinda nerdy with a ‘Dora the Explorer’ haircut?” he prompted. 

“Yes,” Ella replied, eyeing him suspiciously. “How did you know that. She’s a hallucination that I’ve had ever since the accident. She's not real. Just a hallucination.”

“She’s as real as I am,” Lucifer assured her. “Rae Rae, as you call her, is my sister Azrael. The angel of death. For some reason she likes you enough to hang around. Maybe she sees the same thing I do.” Ella looked flabergasted for a moment before she recovered and laughed, waving her finger at him.

“You almost had me,” she said turning back to the blood trail and taking pictures and samples. “You and that cold reading mind fuck thing. Someday I will figure out where you learned because you’re amazing. Go on and get out of here before you make more blood spatter for me to catalogue.” Lucifer just shook his head and levered himself to his feet, surprised when the world dimmed a bit at the edges and not fighting against Chloe when she placed his good arm around her shoulder and slotted herself against his side. Perhaps he had lost more blood than he’d realized. 

“Test the blood, Ms. Lopez,” he muttered as he walked past. “I think you’ll be surprised what you find.” Ella shook her head but did collect a large enough sample to test later. Not that she expected anything to come of it, but you never know.

* * *

Yes, Lucifer was fascinated by his own blood. The sight of hers, however is met with abject horror. About a week after the warehouse knife incident, Chloe was making dinner for them all in her small kitchen. Lucifer was being less than helpful, whispering cooking tips in her ear while his lithe frame pressed against her back and his arms came around hers. 

“No, Darling,” he was whispering. “The best way to cut an onion is to slice it in fine strips almost all the way to the end and then turn it and cut across those to make thin little squares. They cook up nicely and evenly and have the added benefit of being small enough to hide from picky spawn.” This was said more loudly with a glare thrown towards Trixie who had recently decided that onions were of the Devil and not in the good way. Said spawn merely turned around on the couch and stuck her tongue out at the devil before turning back to reading her book.

She was trying to follow his instructions but between her barely passable knife skills, the destraction of his nearness, it wasn’t going well. The onion he had diced as an example was sitting there, gorgeous and even and perfect and her’s was decidedly less well done. Even so, it was easier and was going well until she got to the halfway point and was trying to cut the back half of the onion while holding the slit pieces together and ignore his hand that was on something that was definitely _not_ an onion. She was about to tell him it was hopeless when the knife slipped on the slick onion skin and bit into her finger. 

At his insistence that dull was dangerous, all of her kitchen knives had been honed to razor-sharp perfection and at first she wasn’t entirely sure that it hadn’t just touched her rather than cut her. Then the blood began to well from the cut. And the onion juice began to sting. 

“God dammit!” she swore, dropping the knife and moving to suck on her finger hoping to get the onion juice out. 

“And here we were having a nice evening,” Lucifer said, moving back from her like a scolded teenager. “If you wanted me to stop you could have just asked, Love. You didn’t have to bring Dad into it.” It was only when she pulled her finger from her mouth to check the cut and he saw the blood that his entire demeanor shifted from annoyance to concern.

“You’re bleeding, Chloe,” he said coming to her side and seizing the wrist of the offending hand to bring it up for his examination.

“It’s just a little cut, Lucifer,” she assured him. “A bandaid or some NewSkin and I’ll be fine. It just stung like a bi-- hagfish,” she quickly edited herself for her child sitting in the living room. “I’m okay. I’ll get the first aid kit and then we can go back to cooking.” 

“I think not!” he replied, as if the suggestion had personally offended him. “I’ll help bandage you up and then you will sit and watch as I finish dinner. Perhaps I should cook every meal from here out. Cuts and burns and all manner of risks. Yes, best if someone immortal handles it.” He insisted she take a seat at the table, which she did rolling her eyes at him. The eye rolling didn’t stop as he examined the contents with apparent confusion. 

“Trixie, baby, can you come help Lucifer open the bandaid?” Chloe called the second time he’d batted away her own hands claiming that she’d get blood on the supplies. Trixie came over, laughing and opened the package at the arrows and handed it to the Devil, who continued to look at it in confusion. 

“Watch, Lucifer,” Trixie instructed before unscrewing the cap on the antibiotic ointment, dropping a dab onto her mother’s finger without touching the tip to it and then wrapping the fingertip bandage over the wound. All of which Lucifer watched with a mix of fascination and horror. 

“All done,” Trixie declared, bounding back to her spot on the couch. 

“Are you sure she is qualified for this, Love?” Lucifer asked, eyeing the bandage dubiously. “She is only a child. Should we, perhaps, call the medics?” 

“No, Lucifer,” Chloe said with a laugh remembering how his own wound that was bleeding copiously hadn’t merited medical attention but the tiny cut on her own finger apparently merited calling the national guard. It was just one of his many quirks. Pints of his own blood were ok and fascinating, a single drop of hers was a tragedy. She wondered if he knew that for the rest of the world it would be the opposite. Divine blood was surely more valuable than measly human blood. Even so, she knew that he would allow it to be shed time and time again if it could prevent her losing a drop of hers. Again she felt bot treasured and inadequate in the face of the devotion shown to her by this amazing creature. Her Devil.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly, uncaring that he had gone back to cooking and had no idea what she had been thinking. 

“Whatever for?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at her in confusion. She knew that he still couldn’t understand thanks and affection that didn’t come clearly from a tit-for-tat exchange but she hoped someday he would.

“Everything,” she replied. He blushed slightly and looked away. She didn’t tell him, but that was her second favorite use for his blood, staining his cheeks when she did something unexpected. Perhaps this evening they would get to indulge in her favorite, far more carnal use for it, if only Trixie would go to bed. It seemed her thoughts had shown on her face because his grin took on less of a shy edge and more of a hungry one that had nothing to do with the food on the stove. Yes, the evening would be a good one indeed.


	3. C is for Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is that monstrosity doing here?" He demanded pointing at the white, fluffy kitten as if it had just puked a hairball on his shoes.

When the kid had declared that she wanted a pet, Decker had argued that it wasn't possible. There were very specific rules in the lease. The pet couldn’t be a rodent, reptile, or canine over 35 pounds. Trixie had repeated them and then reminded her that the lease didn't ban pets, only certain pets. There were loopholes. She could have a fish, a bird, a cat or a small dog. Decker had sighed and growled Lucifer's name like a curse. Maze had to admit she had balls. 

No one in Hell would have dared to have said his name that way. He'd have smote them where they stood. The smoking pile of ash a testament as to why it was a bad idea to disrespect the king. _If_ he was feeling generous. If he wasn't, being a smoking pile of ash would have been preferable to the fate that awaited you. But he had gone soft since they'd come topside. And he'd always allowed her appalling levels of disrespect and familiarity. It was no wonder she'd thought that she could get away with this latest affront. And apparently the balls to take on something that could annihilate you was genetic; the kid held her ground.

She was insistent that she wanted a _pet_ , and that you couldn’t really pet a fish or a bird. That left a small dog or a cat. Decker had vetoed the small dog, which Maze agreed with, and had agreed to consider the cat. Maze had tried to warn them. She had told Decker and the kid that this wasn't going to go well, that Lucifer _hated_ cats, but they'd chosen to ignore her. Again. And she guessed it could have been worse; they could have gotten a goat. Though that would have been over the bitch of a landlady's weight restriction too. Like there was any pet worth having that was less than thirty-five pounds. Most hellhounds were over 200. When Maze had voiced this opinion, it too was ignored.

So it came that Decker and the kid had browsed craigslist, facebook and visited the local animal prison and come home with that thing. At first Maze had thought that Decker had talked the kid into a stuffed animal. It was so still and puffy that in her little arms it looked fake. And then she'd set it down and the damn thing started wandering around the house _purring_. Maze looked at it in disgust as the white kitten rubbed against her leather boots, leaving its scent on her. No amount of washing would get that out. She hated cats. Egotistical little pricks. Thinking the whole damn world belonged to them and existed to serve them.

She was about to kick it away but looked up to see the kid looking at her with such a hopeful expression she resisted the urge. While she didn’t mind kicking the kitten, it would be the same thing as kicking the kid and that she wouldn’t do. 

"Isn't he cute?" Trixie was asking. "I picked him out myself. He was the sweetest one they had and his fur is so soft. You _have_ to pet him, Maze."

"I don't like cats," Maze said simply. " _Especially_ not cute ones. Giant predatory ones, they're pretty badass. They could eat your face if they wanted to and might even give me a good fight if I didn’t have my knives. But _that_ thing? It's prey. No camouflage. And that fur would just get tangled and matted. And what does it weigh? Less than a pound? It's useless."

"It's a pet, Maze," Decker told her sternly. "It's only use it to make Trixie happy."

"Just wait until Lucifer sees it," Maze laughed, hoping she was around for the show. She turned to walk to her room, hissing as the foul creature tried to follow her. Rather than cower, the little puffball hissed back, showing teeth. She raised an eyebrow wondering if she hadn't judged it too harshly. Maybe the little ones had all the predatory instincts of the big ones. She'd never really been around the beasts. Maybe it needed a chance.

"Hey, Beelzebub, no!" The kid said, spraying the kitten with a squirt gun. Maze couldn't contain her laughter at that. 

" _What_ did you name that thing?" She asked when she could breathe.

"Beelzebub," the kid repeated, brightly. "He kinda reminds me of Lucifer's wings, all white and fluffy and I remember from church that it's one of the names for Satan, which is another name for Lucifer so … yeah."

"Oh, Decker," Maze crowed, hopping up on the cabinet to sit cross-legged. "I've changed my mind. I can't just wait. Call Lucifer over. This I've got to see."

"You call him," Chloe retorted. "You seem to think this will upset him and I don't want to be responsible for that. Trixie, baby, maybe you should change his name. Daddy won't like it if you name your kitten Satan."

"He won't come if I do," Maze argued, ignoring Chloe’s change of topic. " _You_ are the only one with the power to summon the Devil at will. He's got to find out about it eventually. May as well be today." Her responding sigh told Maze that Decker knew the demon was right. But her expression was that of an animal in a trap with no way out as she dialled the phone.

"Chloe!" Maze could hear Lucifer's bright reply from her perch on the cabinet. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Darling?"

"Trixie has something she wants to show you," Chloe said, trepidation in her tone. "Think you can come over?"

"Give me half an hour," he replied, concern lacing his words so heavily it made Maze gag. " Don’t worry, Love. I'll be there. I wouldn’t want to disappoint the child." 

"See you soon," she said, hanging up the phone and shifting uncomfortably under Maze's triumphant gaze. It wasn’t often that the demon could make the woman squirm and she almost enjoyed it, especially knowing that Lucifer wouldn’t even be mad at her for making his pet human uncomfortable this time.

"Baby, about his name," Decker started but the kid shook her head.

"I'll only change it if Lucifer asks me to," the kid said stubbornly, picking up her kitten and stroking his cheeks as he leaned into the touch and purred, eating up that little bit of affection.

"I don't know, Decker," Maze said with a grin that almost hurt. "He is a lot like Lucifer. All bluff with me and putty in her hands. And they're both white and fluffy. The kid may be onto something.” The woman said nothing, sending her daughter wordlessly to the living room before pouring herself a generous glass of wine, eying the remainder and chugging it straight from the bottle. Her eyes locked on Maze's the whole time daring the demon to say anything.

"That a girl," Maze encouraged. "Now, if only I could get you to do that with liquor. Chloe shook her head and waited for Lucifer to show up. 

* * *

As she watched Maze grin like a maniac, Chloe wondered if she shouldn't text Lucifer and tell him to come later, or not at all. She rolled her eyes as she imagined his reply to that, but there had to be a way to warn him that he couldn't turn into innuendo, didn't there? Just as she was about to try to find one, his voice sounded from the front door. Maze's grin grew impossibly wider and showed far too many teeth for Chloe's liking. 

"This is gonna be good," Maze said, moving towards the living room with an actual bowl of popcorn in her hands. When had she made popcorn? Shaking her head, Chloe followed with decidedly less enthusiasm. As soon as he saw her, his face lit like a kid at Christmas and he came towards her, greeting her with a kiss. She leaned into his touch feeling guilty. She hadn’t realized when she agreed to this that he actually hated cats, maybe she should have planned this out a bit better?

"So, what did the child wish to show me?" he asked brightly, wondering if it hadn't just been a pretense to get him to come over. Though his detective was usually more forward than that. And it wouldn’t surprise him if the child had a project that she had completed that she wished to show him. She did delight in hearing praise for her works, something he was only too glad to give her as it also pleased her mother. And, though he was loathe to admit it, himself. All thoughts of pleasing his detective or her spawn disappeared when he saw what the spawn carried.

"Mommy got me a pet, Lucifer," Trixie called bounding over excitedly, her kitten clutched between her hands. 

"What is that monstrosity doing here?" He demanded pointing at the white, fluffy kitten as if it had just puked a hairball on his shoes. He looked somewhere between livid, disgusted and (surprisingly) terrified. Maze was nearly beside herself with amusement and Chloe was wondering if she should step between the Devil and her daughter before he could try to smite the kitten. She hung back for the moment, trusting Lucifer's restraint.

"He's not a monstrosity," Trixie said, cuddling the kitten closer and glaring up at Lucifer. "Beelzebub is a kitten and he's my pet." Lucifer's expressive face went blank and he stared at her like she was speaking a foreign language (not that it would have mattered because he spoke them all).

"Wh-what did you name it?" he demanded, his lip curled with distaste.

"Beelzebub," she repeated. "It means--"

"I know what it _means, Spawn_ " Lucifer snapped. “And that’s not one of my favorite of my various names. Why in Dad’s name did you name that fell beast after me?” She flinched at his sharp tone and he was instantly remorseful, though it didn’t stop him from glaring at her. She shifted uncomfortably under his stare, holding the kitten tighter and the creature purred and rubbed his cheek against hers. She looked as though she were about to cry and his anger began to dissolve. He didn’t want the urchin to cry.

“Why, Beatrice?” Lucifer asked, taking care to modulate his tone despite the irritation he still felt for her naming the little monster after him.

“I … well … He reminded me of you,” Trixie said, her tone growing uncertain as she stared at his knees rather than his face. “He was alone and so sad and somewhere he didn’t want to be but he was still so sweet and was so happy when I picked him and petted him. Kinda like you are with Mommy,” she glanced up at his face, seeing it softening and continued, “and he was so white and fluffy, just like your wings. It just … it felt _right._ I knew it was one you didn't use but I can change it if it bothers you. Mommy said it might.”

“It’s alright, Child,” he said with a small bitter laugh. “It’s almost ironic, really. A tiny fluffy white cat named after the Devil. And it might give your father an aneurysm. At the very least it’ll annoy him.”

“I’ll change it. Mommy suggested Snowball. He could be a snowball. Just don’t be mad at me, Lucifer. Please,” she begged, looking up at him, her dark eyes brimming with tears desperate for approval and forgiveness. He hated it instantly. Seeing her in tears, begging him not to be mad ate at his soul and caused uncomfortable feelings to coil in his gut. He sighed, thinking about his response.

"Beatrice," he said finally, pausing to sigh again, before squatting to look her in the eye. "I am not mad at you. How could I be when your reason for what you did was as kind as it was? You took the fond feelings you have for me and extended them to that feline. It only makes sense that you would then wish to give it one of my names. I suppose it may keep it as I am rather less than fond of both that name and cats. It's almost fitting. However, the parallels you drew were in error."

"I don't think so," she said softly, still more timid than was her norm. "But if I explain it might make you sad. Mommy says I'm not supposed to talk about your past because it makes you sad." 

"I would never tell you that your mother's rules are invalid," Lucifer said, previous arguments with Chloe tailoring that response, "however, I am asking and it is my past and emotions we are discussing. I think, just this once, I will wave your mother's rule, temporarily. How am I like that _cat_."

She opened her mouth but closed it again, scratching the white fluffball under the chin. He raised an eyebrow and that was all the encouragement she needed. "Well, he was abandoned by his family and so were you," she said slowly growing bolder when he showed signs of interest rather than distress. "He ended up alone somewhere unpleasant that he hated. So did you. He seemed afraid of me at first. So did you. But then, he was so happy for the attention that he purred. You don't purr but I do think you like us giving you attention. And he's white. Like your wings. And fluffy. And soft. And, just like you, he was alone and now he's got us. And so do you." 

Lucifer's eyes were distant for a moment as he considered her analogies but before he could respond Maze groaned.

"If I'd known that this was going to turn into a _feelings_ thing I wouldn't have bullied Decker into calling you," she groused. "I was expecting smiting and flames and rage. Not _this._ "

"The child likes the creature, Mazikeen," Lucifer cut in, his tone one of barely contained irritation, turning to glare at the demon. "And I like the child. Therefore the creature is off limits. Even if it is a ghastly thing. And white nonetheless. It is going to be a pain in the arse to keep my suits free from … contamination. Do you think I can smite just hair and not the entire suit?"

"Maybe practice with a tee-shirt, dear," Chloe added helpfully, pleased that he was entertaining less destructive options. "Or maybe go a bit more … normal and use a lint roller?"

"And risk being sticky?" Lucifer demanded. "Never, Darling. I'll figure out how to smite cat hair and not the cat." At Beatrice's concerned expression he patted her head. "Don't worry, Urchin. It was a joke. I won't smite your pet. Though I do hope you know what you're in for. Cats are superior, egotistical pricks, they are."

"That why you can't stand 'em?" Maze asked, laughter coloring the words. "Only room for one in your world, My King?"

"I'll have you know, Mazikeen, that my issue with cats has nothing to do with their attitude and everything to do with the fact that people think I should adore them," Lucifer replied primly. "If Dad's followers hadn't decided that they were a way to commune with the Devil, not that I'm opposed to communing in every _possible_ meaning of the word except when used by _them_ , then I'd actually probably like them, minus the clinging offshed issue.

"They are better than the sycophantic _dogs_ at any rate. Beat them, starve them and they come back for more. Certain that it was their fault and seeking to make amends. Never demanding their due. They remind me too much of my siblings, simpering for just an iota of Dad's affection.

"But cats, oh cats, they are aware of their own worth. They know they don't need you and only consent to your ownership if it suits them. And if abandoned they can take care of themselves. No, if it wasn't for the church and the shedding, cats would be my preferred animal. Other than hellhounds, of course." Maze rolled her eyes at his monologue before getting a decidedly evil smirk on her face. 

"Kid's right, Lucifer," Maze said simply. "You are a cat." She walked out the front door as Lucifer puffed himself up, well, like an angry cat-or a bird. Not that he'd appreciate either comparison. Chloe knew that if his wings were visible the feathers there would be standing up too, expressing his displeasure and making him larger than he already was. 

"She may be onto something, Sweetheart," Chloe said, moving to wrap her arms around him and grinning as he melted into her embrace.

"What's that, Love?" he asked looking down at her with a smile. 

"You are somewhat like a cat," Chloe agreed, glaring at him to hear her out when he opened his mouth. "You are beginning to know your own worth and are capable of taking care of yourself." He nodded looking pleased so she continued, "but, just like a cat, while you _can_ survive alone you _thrive_ if someone else helps out."

"I take it that you and the child are the someone elses in this scenario?" He asked with a grin. It was Chloe's turn to nod. He smiled, pulling her against his chest and resting his chin on her head.

"I conscent to your ownership, Chloe," he said finally. "As long as you know that it's mutual." 

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she agreed. He leaned down to kiss her and they both jumped, him looking guilty, as Trixie yelled, "Beelzebub, no!" As they both turned to her, she was staring at them in horror. Before they could ask, a purring noise was heard near their ankles and they looked down to see the white kitten rubbing against them.

"Sentiment aside," Lucifer said looking down at the kitten with a mix of fascination and disgust, "perhaps Snowball is a better name. It may not be a name I use, but I still know that it means me. And it's not one I am particularly fond of hearing. Too many _evangelical_ connotations. Besides we can't have me jumping every time she admonishes the creature." Said creature was still winding through Lucifer's legs, purring and rubbing against him. 

"Yes, yes. I will tolerate your presence, Snowball. Now get off me," he said nudging it with a foot. Chloe bent and picked the kitten up and lifted it into her arms. The Devil eyed it contemplatively before giving it a tentative scratch under the chin that it leaned in to. He smiled before looking down at his leg where white cat hair clung to his trousers. His smile shifted to a look of intense concentration and Chloe knew just before it happened what was to come.

With a little puff of smoke and the brief smell of singed hair, Lucifer's pantleg was free of cat hair. He nodded in satisfaction before taking the kitten from Chloe and holding it, enjoying the feel of it purring in his hands. Yes, perhaps he had been too hard on cats. His amusement and hesitant affection for the species only grew when it nipped at his fingers and tried to claw his hand for rubbing it's soft underbelly. He would never admit aloud that they were right, but he did share some traits with this kitten, including a propensity to provoke beings that could smite him. He petted it for a few moments before handing it back to a slightly anxious Beatrice. With another sigh, he glared at the white hair on his suit before burning it off as well.

"She just had to get a white one, didn't she?" he muttered to himself before checking to ensure that no errant hairs had missed his purge. As she watched him groom himself in her livingroom, unnecessary adjusting the lay of his suit and his cufflinks, Chloe realized that Trixie and Maze were right; Lucifer was definitely a cat.


	4. D is for Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desire had always been his to draw out. Even in the beginning
> 
> Lucifer reflects on his long relationship with desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up folks, this one's a bit dark. Lucifer is reminiscing and his memories aren't nice places. It touches on divine child abuse via the fall, repeated forced pregnancy via curses ( lilith really gets a shit deal in this one) and hell. You've been warned.

Desire had always been his to draw out. Even in the beginning. It had taken him some time to realize that he could pull desires out of his lesser siblings, the non-archangels. And even once he had realized that he could, it was something he did only rarely. It wasn’t like they ever had anything  _ original _ to say. Their single desire was to please Father and be all that he wanted them to be. He’d tried it on Michael once but his twin had looked at him like he had lost his mind and smacked him in the back of the head with a golden wing while he was occupied trying to pull Michael’s thoughts from his head. It hadn’t worked on Uriel or Gabriel either. With how boring the desires of his lesser siblings were and the lack of efficiency on his peers, eventually he quit trying. 

And then came The Fall. And, oh, did he try to draw out his Father's desires. As he was forced to his knees, bleeding, broken and chained before his Father, his limbs quivering in pain, he locked his eyes on His and asked in a rasp he barely recognized as his own, “what is it you desire, Father?” His Father had looked at him, shaking his head.

“I gave you that ability, Samel,” He said, His tone filled with disappointment. “It is not one that you can use against me.” 

“Then just tell me,” he had begged, trying to curl in on himself as pain shot through him at the deep inhalation. “You had an end-game in this. What is it? What do you want from me? Why did you give me the ability to see what others desire and to have desires myself if not to let me use them? Why can I not have free will? You’re giving it to the humans. Am I not more deserving? If you didn’t want me to want it, why did you let me have the ability to want? That was a cruel and flawed design Father. And I hate you for it. I  _ hate  _ you for making me this way.” Something he couldn’t place flashed through his Father’s eyes for a second before they closed and His jaw clenched. When His eyes opened next, they were hard. 

“Go to Hell, my son,” God said simply. “You are no longer welcome here. Throw him down.” His Father had looked away, not even doing him the courtesy of watching as His next order was carried out. He had walked away as Lucifer’s siblings had dragged him, kicking, fighting, and screaming to the edge of the city. He still felt some pride that it had taken five of them to subdue him, injured and bound though he was, and toss him over the edge. And he’d almost taken Michael with him, his fingers gripping his brother’s ankle at the last moment and pulling him over the edge. They’d fought in the air before Michael broke free, his golden wings catching air and lifting him into the sky in a way that Lucifer’s broken ones could not. He hoped that he didn’t imagine the pain or regret in his twin’s face as he fell alone and terrified. 

And then it was pain and darkness and cold. It was so cold, and quiet. He was alone. Alone in the dark and the ash. Alone. There was no one to hear him cry, to help set his bones that had broken in The Fall. The silence in the air and his mind--he never thought he would miss the prayers of his siblings, or their singing-- nearly drove him mad. It took effort, but eventually he summoned the will to set his own bones. It was an agony he wasn’t prepared for. Despite screaming until his throat burned and he tasted blood, no one came. He tended his wounds in the dark and hoped for healing or death.

Eventually he healed. And still he was alone in the silent dark. He had no idea how long it had been when he decided to try to light the darkness. He didn’t know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. It wasn't like he couldn’t. After all he was the Lightbringer. So he did. 

He made a star and cast it into the barrier that served as a sky. But it’s light was wrong, corrupted. Instead of pure white or yellow light, it was a sickly blue-green faint light that his star immited. It’s power diminished just like his own. But it was better than it had been, the light in his new world now extended past the glow emitted by his own wings. Not that there was much to see. It was still a barren, silent, wasteland. There was still no one.

And then there was. She appeared from nowhere where one day. A woman. Dark-haired, with green eyes, shaking her fist at the sky and cursing his father and someone named Adam. The sound rang across the land, echoing oddly off the mountains. He had no idea who she was, but she had no wings and didn’t have the aura of the divine, so he approached her. Lilith, she called herself. Said that she was the first woman made but that she had displeased God and her husband with her willfulness and been banished to Hell.

“What a coincidence,” he had replied. “I’ve been banished here for willfulness too.” She had asked his name and it was the first time he had given his title as a name; Lucifer. She had tested it, looked at him appraisingly and then nodded her approval. Together they had returned to the place he had taken residence, little more than a cave. She had insisted that they improve upon it and “make it a home.” He’d agreed. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. 

It soon became clear that something wasn’t right. As the days went on, though it was difficult to tell time since his star was fixed in the sky, always casting it’s sickly light, despite the fact that there was nothing to eat she grew rounder, her stomach swelling unnaturally. He asked if she was dying. She denied it. Said that it was to be expected.

“It’s my curse,” she had said. He hadn’t understood until one day, when they were walking, she doubled over in pain and dropped to her knees, cursing his Father once more. He knelt beside her and stroked her hair as she wept, hoping that she wouldn’t die; his only companion in the silence. Hours it went on, blood and fluid and curses pouring from her nearly to the point that he considered killing her for the mercy of it rather than allowing her to continue suffering and then suddenly it stopped. On the ground by her feet lay a child. It looked like them save for the fact that it only had half a face, the second half little more than a web of flesh.

“My curse,” Lilith had said, looking up at him with tear streaks washing the ash from her face before lifting the child from the ground and holding it--her--out to him. “I am to bear demons. For eternity. She is but the first of many. I gift this one to you.” The child looked at him with unnaturally bright eyes as he took her from her mother and looked at her in curiosity.

“I don’t know what to do with a child,” Lucifer replied, trying to hand her back. Lilith refused to take her, crossing her arms across her chest and looking away. 

“She’s a demon,” Lilith said with a shrug. “And there will be more. Do what you will with her. It is no matter to me.” Her tone suggested that she felt otherwise, but Lucifer didn’t feel like prying if she didn’t want to share. He would keep her child until she changed her mind and wanted it back. 

“Does she have a name?” Lucifer asked as Lilith forced herself to her feet and began walking once more. She didn’t even spare a glance for the strangely silent infant in his arms. 

“Mazikeen,” Lilith replied. “Call her Mazikeen.” 

* * *

True to her word, there were more. Every few months, Lilith would grow round and then all of Hell would fill with her screams as she brought forth a new demon. And Lucifer would always go to her. He would sit and hold her as she curled in on herself, her fingers digging into his flesh as her body fought to expel the foreign invader. He hated it and he hated his Father for ordaning it.

After about the tenth time it happened, after it was over, she lay sniffling into his chest, his wings wrapped around them both in a futile effort to offer her comfort when suddenly, she seized, curling upon herself once more and looking at him in panic. It was twins. She begged him to kill her, pleaded. He tried, planning to snap her neck and end her suffering. He placed his hands on either side of her neck but his hands wouldn’t move. 

He released her and his hands were his again. He snapped a chunk of rock from the wall. But as soon as he held it over her head, he froze once more. His hands were not his own. He could not kill her. He tried to explain that he wanted to but couldn’t but she wouldn’t hear it. She refused his comfort, cursed his name and demanded he leave. He refused. The entire labor for the second demon, she cursed him for condemning her to continue enduring this agony for his own selfishness. Part of him wondered if she wasn’t right.

* * *

As the horde of demons grew, they grew restless and feral. Lilith may have given them life but she wanted no hand in raising them. Thankfully they required little care, not needing food or water or shelter, but they did require ruling. Without a leader, they were quarrelsome and destructive things and while they posed no real danger to him or Lilith--they couldn’t harm her either, part of the curse--he hated for them to die. They had cost her so much pain to bring into the world, the death of one was a travesty. And their disputes were easy to settle. His ability to draw out desires worked on them, base though those desires were; power, and violence. Blood feuds abounded and he had to declare himself king to get any respect, respect that had to be earned with blood and pain.

And through it all, Mazikeen was at his side. Grown quickly to adulthood, slightly less feral and brighter than the rest. Loyal and more than willing to enforce his will when he couldn’t be bothered to do it himself. She stayed in his chambers with him, always watching for one of her siblings to attempt a futile attack. Prepared to meet force with force however he saw fit. And then one day, when Lilith was birthing another demon, he needed to get away. It hadn’t been long enough since the last one and his nerves could not take another round of listening to her curse him. 

He had spread his wings and flown and before he knew it, he was out of hell. The world was bright, the sky a pale blue filled with white clouds, the ground green. He wasn’t sure where he was but he had never seen anywhere more beautiful. Tall things with brown trunks and green leaves, covered in fruit--trees, his mind supplied--small bursts of color amongst the green of the ground--flowers--crystal clear liquid flowing--a stream. It was exquisite. And then there was a woman. Long dark hair, dark eyes and an innocent, open face staring at him in awe. Eve, her name was.

She had come towards him, slowly as if afraid of spooking him, her hand outstretched and then her fingers made contact with his wing and he’d jumped back as if he’d been burned. She had held her hands out in front of her, palms facing him and, warning him with her eyes, placed her hands on his chest. Her skin was soft and warm. It had felt lovely. As she had stroked him, reverence in her gaze, brown eyes locked on his he couldn’t stop himself from asking her what she desired.

“Fun,” she had replied. “Fun with you.” And, oh, had they had fun. He had shown her the delights of flight and magic and she had shown him the fun to be had of the flesh. He hadn’t known what she was doing when she had trailed her hand down his body, but she had soon showed him and he was quite an eager pupil. There were so many ways it could be done and they both enjoyed exploring them together, his refractory period and her adventurous streak leading to acrobatic marathons. 

And it wasn’t just sex, she also showed him food. Never before in his existence had he eaten and he found that almost as delightful as sex. There was one tree that she told him that she had been told not to eat from. She told him that she truly desired to know what it tasted like but that his Father had told Adam that it would kill them. He could understand her desire. The fruit was a beautiful golden color and looked so plump and juicy. He, too, was curious. With a shrug, he had given his wings a single flap and plucked a fruit, biting it himself and moaning as the taste washed over his tongue. It was sweet and sharp all at once. Even though he knew that it would be unlikely to kill him, he figured that anything that would kill her would at least make itself known to his senses. When he felt no ill effects, he offered the fruit to her. 

She seemed fearful as she took it, but bit it all the same. Her eyes only left his to close in bliss as she tasted the complex palate. As soon as she swallowed, she let out a gasp, her eyes flying open and one arm covering her breasts and the other hand her groin. He looked at her in confusion as a blush colored her cheeks and chest. His confusion only deepened when she whispered, “we’re both naked.”

He looked down at himself wondering why that suddenly mattered. He hadn’t worn clothing since his had been burned off in The Fall. Lilith wore no clothing. Nor did her horde of hellspawn. Adam was naked, Eve was naked. The only one who bothered with clothing was his Father when he came to walk in the garden. 

“You shouldn’t be naked,” she’d replied, horrified and searching for large leaves to cover herself. He’d assisted her, confused by this new desire but happy to fulfill it. Adam had heard them and come to see what they were doing. He was as confused by her newfound modesty as Lucifer was. Eve had given him the fruit and promised it would make sense if he would taste it. He had shrugged, looked at Lucifer and taken a bite. No sooner had he swallowed than his eyes, too, filled with shame and he began searching for leaves as well. Lucifer helped him as well, wondering just what he had helped them do.

And then he heard his Father’s voice. Adam and Eve ducked behind a rock with him. His Father found them all, His gaze scaring over Lucifer as if he wasn't there. Lucifer couldn't bring himself to move as God rebuked Adam and Eve before ordering them removed from the garden. And Lucifer forced himself to watch as they were banished from the garden, Adam cursing his name and promising that all generations would know him as a deceiver and a betrayer for what he had done. Eve had looked so crestfallen that he had flown away before she could curse him too. He couldn’t take it from her. Not after so many others had cursed him.

That was the first night he took Mazikeen to his bed. She was a more aggressive lover than Eve had been, but no less creative or skilled once she figured out what she was doing. News of this new development soon spread through Hell. Now the demons had three desires; power, violence and sex. He still rarely needed his powers of desire to figure out what they wanted. 

* * *

Time passed. Demons began begeting demons and his reluctance to kill the lesser born faded. Only those birthed by Lilith herself--the Lilim--merited any restraint on his part. The rest were fair game, pawns. And even their own parents cared little for their survival. If they died then they were too weak to have lived. And many of them did die. There was nothing to do but fight or have sex and both of those grew old eventually. 

And then, a single room sprung up on the empty plains. Everyone in Hell was curious and moved towards it but none were brave enough to open the door and enter. With a sigh, Lucifer opened the door. Inside was a young man with a knife held behind his back arguing with another young man and goading him on. And then the dark headed boy, whose face seemed vaguely familiar, attacked killing the lighter one. He bled, he died and then it started over. It repeated a few times before Lucifer stepped into the room and interrupted before the loop could begin again. The boy explained that he had cheated his brother, goaded him, hoping to kill him in the ensuing fight and instead led to his own death. He could feel the guilt radiating from him and when the boy mentioned that his mother would be distraught at what had happened, Eve appeared in the loop, looking at his dead body crestfallen. At the knowledge that this cretin had been intending to deprive Eve of her oldest child and instead deprived her of her youngest, breaking her heart, Lucifer stepped out of the room. 

Mazikeen and the others looked at him in a way that was clearly asking permission. They, too, could smell the guilt on him and the weakness it implied made them want to test him. Lucifer turned back to Abel, asking him one question, “What is it you desire?” 

“To atone,” Abel replied, “to be punished for my actions.” 

“So be it,” Lucifer muttered, waving the demons in. That night, it wasn’t just Lilith’s screams that split the once silent air of Hell. 

* * *

More time passed. Eons even. And slowly but surely more boxes filled the plain. More dead, guilt-ridden humans. At first, he visited each new arrival. Spoke with them, learned of their crimes and waited until they expressed a desire to be punished before he let the demons have their way with them but eventually the souls became too many for him to visit each one himself before the demons could get to them. Soon, he found that he missed the silence from before. Much as the star he had placed in the sky always glowed a sickly blue-green, so, too, were the screams of the damned ever-present. It did make his life easier, though. With an alternative outlet, the demons left him in peace most of the time. 

And they feared him. He had recently had to make a show of power to make his will known. He had publicly and violently executed a group of demons who had ignored his edict that an unfairly guilty soul be spared their attentions. It had been enough of a spectacle that he doubted that he would need to do it again for a few millennia. And when the constant cries of the souls in hell became too much, he would visit Earth. It was not as striking as it had been the first time, but it was always refreshing. 

Humanity grew and matured and created and he always was impressed by their new inventions since his last visit. And their desires. True, it was often the same as the demons, power, sex, influence, but occasionally someone would surprise him. And sometimes, he would grant them that desire, if it was in his power to arrange. Never for nothing, though. He would grant them their desires in exchange for an open favor from them. He didn’t always collect before they died, but he always could. If millenia in hell had taught him one thing it was that nothing was ever done with no ulterior motive and favors owed. But, in the end he always returned to Hell, occasionally with the  _ assistance _ of one of his siblings. Over time the time between visits to Earth grew shorter and his stays longer. 

And then came the day he decided that he was done. He couldn't rest. Between the light and the screams and the ash it was too much. He was about to leave when his door burst open and Mazikeen stormed in. He sighed.He had more than had his fill of demons for one day. Even demons as interesting as Mazikeen 

He tried to ignore her. She tried to seduce him. He threatened her. She thought he was engaging in foreplay. He finally told her that he was leaving. She demanded to go. He considered it a moment before he nodded.

"One condition," he said, she nodded. She would agree to anything he'd ask and would do it even if she didn't because he was her King. 

"When we arrive, you cut off my wings," he ordered. "I'm never coming back." Indecision flashed through her eyes for a millisecond but then she nodded, twining herself around him sinuously, licking up his neck before nipping his ear and whispering that she was ready.

They landed on the beach and, true to her word, Mazikeen immediately pulled out a knife and stabbed through his right wing base, sawing through sinew and flesh before dislocating the bone. It was agony he hadn't experienced since The Fall. At some point, he lost consciousness. 

When next he awoke, his back ached and burned. Moving was agony and he wondered if it had been worth it. A sound of pain in the corner drew his attention and he raised himself up enough to see Mazeikeen in a chair cradling a clearly broken arm, a black eye and a deep, bleeding wound through her eyebrow. 

"You got me with a feather," she snarled, her voice tight from pain. "And a wing. You broke my fucking arm."

"Come here, Darling," he promised. "I'll set it for you and heal it if you wish. If you'll fetch the wings I'll pull you a feather and--" he stopped as she shook her head.

"I'll be fine," she promised. "I'll let you set it, but I'll heal. Right now we're square. I don't want to owe you a favor, My King."

"Lucifer," he corrected. "You can't refer to me as your king topside."

"Lucifer," she said softly, tasting his name as her mother had so long ago. Just like her mother, she nodded, accepting his name. 

* * *

Years passed, fun years, where he and Mazikeen used the resources he had gathered in past visits to make a life for themselves. All the vices LA had to offer were theirs. Men, women, drugs, liquor. Only the best for him and his right-hand demon. He drew desires, granted favors, flitted from one partner to the next with no complaints on either side. No human could resist his charms or deny his gift. 

And then there was  _ her _ . A plain-faced, frumpy-dressed LAPD officer who was investigating the death of one of his pet humans. She was resistant to his charms and her desires were not his to draw. She wasn't divine but she seemed more than human. For the first time in his life, the inability to draw forth a desire inspired intrigue rather than irritation. Eventually that intrigue became friendship which became love.

Yes, desire had always been his to draw out. Even in the beginning. But she was the exception, her mind a closed book in a world full of billboards. And he loved the mystery. It made every desire she shared all the more precious. Lying in bed beside her, naked and knowing that answering would be her choice, he couldn't resist the urge to ask her, "Tell me, Love, what is it that you truly desire." Her seductive smirk before she answered told him everything he needed to know. In that moment he decided that desire wasn't his. It was theirs.


	5. E is for Excessive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excessive didn't even begin to cover any of Dan's thoughts about Lucifer habits. Everything about the man was excessive. And, as he looked over at the consultant sprawled out in the passenger seat of his car, surrounded by an excessive amount of snacks he wondered just how in the hell he'd offended God enough to be stuck on an overnight stakeout with someone who wouldn't shut the hell up. 

Excessive didn't even begin to cover any of Dan's thoughts about Lucifer habits. Everything about the man was excessive; his wardrobe, his drinking, his ego, his brazeness, his lifestyle, his finances, and, until recently, his sex life. I mean, they'd interviewed nearly 100 different sexual partners, and that was just the  _ recent _ ones. And, as he looked over at the consultant sprawled out in the passenger seat of his car, surrounded by an excessive amount of snacks he wondered just how in the hell he'd offended God enough to be stuck on an overnight stakeout with someone who wouldn't shut the hell up. 

His partner had apparently come down with the flu, and the lieutenant would let him go on this one alone. The warehouse he wanted to monitor was home to a criminal organization that was suspected of shooting an 80two-year-old man taking out his trash on cold blood. He insisted that a duo was the bare minimum required. 

Even though it was Dan's case, the lieutenant had wanted to give it to Chloe and Lucifer due to their solve rate. But Chloe would have been on overtime. With detectives available that wouldn't she was off the table. And no one else was available in the evening at that time. 

It had looked like the stakeout was going to be a bust but then Lucifer had volunteered making the argument that as an unpaid consultant overtime was irrelevant. The lieutenant had been about to say no and then Lucifer smiled and Dan knew he was screwed. He had no idea why Lucifer wanted to go with him but Lucifer always got what he wanted. The dick. So here they sat. On a stake-out. With his ex-wife’s crazy partner who thought he was the Devil. Eff his life. 

After about an hour of Lucifer’s incessant talking and snacking, Dan had had enough. He had no idea how Chloe put up with his antics but he had no intention of doing it. Even the improvement that Lucifer might offer his close rate wasn’t worth putting up with his Luciferness. Enough was enough. How was he supposed to keep watch when he couldn’t focus on his job because Lucifer was talking about plans for a bachelorette party at Lux the next day?

“Look, Man,” Dan said, turning from the building to glare at the consultant, who had the gall to look shocked at his anger, “I don’t care. I don't want to chat with you about your club or women. I don’t hate you, but I don’t  _ like _ you either and we’re not friends. We will  _ never _ be friends. You have to trust friends. And I can’t trust you. You keep secrets and you don’t tell the truth. Yes, I know you say you don’t lie but you don’t tell the whole truth either. You know more than you let on a lot of the time and people get hurt because of it. Charolette got killed because of it.

“I know that Chloe trusts you, but it got real weird with her for a bit too after the whole Pierce thing,” Dan continued, feeling regret begin to coil in his gut as Lucifer seemed to shrink in the passenger seat but he made no move to defend himself, which was odd. But Dan had things he needed to get off his chest and this was the first chance he'd had where there was no chance of Chloe interfering. 

“And while I know that he was bad and you had no choice, I still don’t know how you got out of killing a lieutenant without anyone batting an eye," Dan said. "There should have been an investigation at the very least. But there wasn't. And all I know is that you have some very shady contacts and way too much influence for one man. And that you use them for your own ends. I don’t know why you wanted to come with me so badly, but know that if I had had a vote I would have been coming alone. You can’t work with people that you don’t trust and I don’t trust you.”

“You’re right, of course,” Lucifer said, his voice a broken whisper that pulled at Dan’s regret refining it and twisting it into actual guilt. “About all of it. I don’t tell the whole truth, and that is quite selfish of me. But few people can handle it. The whole truth and … even if you do not see me as a friend, Daniel, that is how I see you. I would hate to lose that friendship, tentative though it is, because of the truth. If you knew the truth, you’d leave. Chloe proved that. Yes, she came back but first she left. And her return wasn't without further hurt, let me assure you." 

The look he cast Dan through his lashes was in no way seductive and he seemed unbearably sad, all evidence of the confident excessive playboy gone. Dan had the sudden, ridiculous notion that were there room in the car Lucifer would have pulled his knees to his chest like a scolded child. Even so, he couldn't stop himself from repeating the truth. Whichever version of Lucifer was the true one, he deserved to know where they stood. And he wouldn't put it past the guy to try to manipulate him by acting vulnerable.

“We’re not friends,” Dan repeated. “Your lies have made that impossible. Just tell me this, does the truth you're hiding place Chloe or my daughter at any risk of harm?” Lucifer flinched as if he had been struck. Looking even more miserable than before, he did find a way to fit his knees between himself and the dash, looking at Dan, his eyes begging him not to ask. But he had to know.

“Are they in danger because of you?” Dan asked again, needing to know the answer to that question. He knew that he couldn’t do anything to stop Chloe from seeing him, she was an adult, but Trixie. He would protect his daughter even if she never wanted to speak to him again for it.

“I would never hurt them,” Lucifer said, his eyes seeming to reflect the red light of a passing car’s taillights as he answered. "I would unleash Hell itself to protect them."

“That’s not what I asked,” Dan snapped, surprised when the other man flinched again. “I asked you if they are in any danger due to their association with you. Now answer my question.”

“Yes,” Lucifer breathed. “Their association with me could potentially place them in danger. But I will not allow them to be harmed. Nor will Mazikeen. Your child could ask for no better defender. I swear to you that they will come to no harm because of their connection to me.”

“God dammit, Lucifer!” Dan yelled, banging the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. “You can’t promise that! If they are in danger because of you then you should be ashamed of yourself. Crazy deep shady connections or not, you’re only human. You can’t guarantee their safety! Of all the irresponsible … that's my child and her mother, Lucifer. Damn you. Damn you to Hell, Lucifer.”

“Already been done, I’m afraid,” Lucifer snapped, straightening back upright and glaring at Dan, another car must have passed because his eyes flashed red again. “By someone with a good deal more authority than a  _ crooked  _ cop who is only free to walk as he will because of my  _ shady _ contacts. I am here because Beatrice asked me to make sure that you were safe and because I thought that we could be friends. I see now that I was wrong and this was a mistake. I will fulfill my promise to your daughter because I do not break deals but I will no longer seek you out. I am sorry for imposing.” 

With that, Lucifer turned back towards the building they were watching, hurt and anger radiating from him in waves. As the minutes stretched between them in silence, Dan began to squirm uncomfortably. The consultant’s breathing was heavy, with rage or something else Dan couldn’t tell but it was clear that he’d been out of line. The silence from the normally talkative man was heavy and oppressive and even though he’d been worried for his ex-wife and child, he knew that he owed Lucifer an apology. After all, the only time Trix had almost been hurt in his presence had been Dan’s fault and Lucifer had protected her that time. And he’d saved Chloe’s life more than once. And Trixie’s. And his if he was being honest. He knew that he would have gone to jail over the Palmetto thing if not for Lucifer, even though that was the first time Lucifer had mentioned it himself. 

“Look, Man, um … Lucifer,” Dan started, but the consultant shook his head. 

“Not the time, Daniel,” Lucifer said, nudging with his chin towards the building and the car that pulled up to park in front. Out climbed three men dressed in black. They didn’t appear to be carrying weapons but they did cut the lock and push through the police tape to enter the warehouse. Lucifer didn’t wait for Dan’s go-ahead before rising from the car as if he hadn’t been sitting for hours and stalking towards the building.

“Shit!” Dan snarled before calling for backup and following Lucifer. He hoped that the consultant would at least have the sense to  _ not _ announce his presence, but he should have known better. Lucifer slammed both doors wide open on the way past, calling for the “criminals” to come out. How did Chloe put up with him? It was no wonder he and Chloe got shot or stabbed so often. No, not Chloe. Just Lucifer. She hadn’t been shot or stabbed in ages. He remembered an instance not that long ago where Lucifer had nearly had his arm chopped off by a suspect and Chloe had said that he had just run in without waiting and he said he’d stuck his arm out to defend her. Shit. He sped up hoping to catch him before Lucifer got himself killed. 

He heard a gunshot followed by a scream and a cruel laugh that made his hair stand on end. Then six more shots in quick succession. More laughter followed and something he couldn’t understand in what he thought was Lucifer’s voice though it was far colder than he had ever heard it before. Creeping forward, gun drawn, he was surprised to see Lucifer standing in the middle of the room, arms wide, taunting the gunman. 

“Come now, is that all you’ve got?” he was asking, a cruel smirk on his face. On the floor against the wall sat one of the suspects, glaring at the consultant. He couldn't see the others.

“It would have been enough if you weren’t wearing a vest, you cheater,” the gunman snarled, holding an arm that Dan was just noticing was bleeding.

“Come now, you can’t blame me that your partner shot you,” Lucifer quipped. “And I’m not. Cheating or wearing a vest.”

“Liar,” the man sneered. “Nobody takes six shots to the chest and stays upright without one hell of a vest.”

“Hell is involved,” Lucifer said, all hint of teasing gone, the liar comment hitting too hard after his argument with Daniel. “Look,” he commanded, and it was clearly a command, one that neither Dan nor the gunman could ignore, before unbuttoning his shirt and jacket, removing them, and setting them on a crate. “No vest. Shoot again. If you dare.”

“You got a death wish?” the gunman demanded, his tone higher than it had been. And Dan had to admit he was equally shocked. What the hell was Lucifer thinking? Or was he? He didn't seem unhinged but these weren't the actions of a sane man. Before Dan could stop him, Lucifer was talking and moving again.

“No,” Lucifer replied, advancing on him. “Do you? I'm not feeling particularly generous at the moment. You should probably try to stop me before I get to you." The man cursed, popping out the clip before loading a new one and unloading on Lucifer who laughed as the man ran out of bullets and threw the gun at him. With a feral grin, Lucifer caught it before crumpling it into a ball with one hand and tossing it back. 

"What are you?" the man screamed scrambling back into the wall. 

"The Devil, darling," Lucifer replied, lifting the man with one hand. "Now, tell me, what is it you desire?" 

"I just want to get away with this," the man said, pleading. "We didn't mean to kill that old man. He was just … he surprised us and the boss said no witnesses. He wasn't supposed to be there. Nobody was. We didn't mean to kill anybody. Please make the guilt stop."

"But you did," Lucifer said, his voice cold, cruel and carrying an undercurrent of power that made Dan shiver. "Your choices led you here, deprived that man of his life. You deserve your guilt and the eternal punishment it brings. You deserve to remember the look in Lucas' eyes as his life bled from his body. And for what? Money? Power? Do you feel powerful now?"

"No, man. Please. I'm sorry," the man begged.

"No, yet you're not," Lucifer promised. "Look at me." The man did, almost as if powerless to refuse and instantly began screaming, begging and pleas for mercy mixed in. Lucifer sighed in disgust and dropped the man, allowing him to cower at his feet.

"Did you get his confession, Detective Douche?" Lucifer called softly, knowing without seeing that Dan was there. Dan couldn't bring himself to move. Lucifer had just taken six bullets like they were nothing. Not a scratch to show for them. Yet another suspect confessed before being reduced to a sobbing nutcase sitting in his own piss. What in the hell was going on because it couldn't be true. No this was some extravagant prank. It wasn't like Lucifer wasn't known to be excessive. That was it. It was a prank. 

"Come, Daniel," Lucifer said, causing him to jump at his proximity. He hadn't heard him come over. "This is the part where you arrest him. The Detective won't let me have handcuffs. Not anymore." He nodded moving to stand--when had he sat?--when someone else entered the fray.

"Freeze or I shoot," the woman said, voice quivering as she held the gun to Lucifer's head. Dan froze, wondering how he was going to get them out of this alive. Lucifer didn't, turning to face her, the barrel of her gun now in the middle of his forehead.

"My dear, do you know the meaning of the term idiocy?" He asked as calmly as though someone wasn't threatening to blow his brains out. She pulled the trigger, the shot going off that close leaving Dan's ears ringing but Lucifer was unfazed. He wiped the powder from his forehead and rolled his eyes. She pulled the trigger again. This time, Lucifer caught the bullet as it fell, holding the mushroomed this aloft.

"It's doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results," he said, grabbing the gun and tossing it to Dan. "Look, I don't care what it is you desire. Confess your crimes so I can go home or end up like your friend over there."

"You can't touch me," she replied, trying to sound tough when the faint shudder in her hands and chin gave her away as terrified. "Torture's illegal and you'll pay for what you did to Johnny." Rather than seem concerned, Lucifer laughed.

"They'll find no signs of torture," he said after a moment. "I barely laid a hand on him. And even had I, there is no one on this earth that can hold  _ me _ accountable. So, will you confess or share his padded cell for the rest of your miserable existence?" This time Dan knew it wasn't a trick of the light when his eyes flared red. 

"We … we killed him. We killed the old man," she said suddenly. "Johnny did the shooting but I… I didn't tell him to stop and I didn't get help. I left him lay as we drove off. I didn't pull the trigger but I killed him."

"And would have killed me, had you been able to," the Devil--because Dan had no doubt now that his ex-wife's partner was the Devil--grinned. She nodded before turning to Dan saying, "please arrest me." Dan did just that fishing a set of cuffs from his pocket and reading the girl her rights, even though she'd already confessed as an accessory to murder during the commission of a felony. About that time, the unis showed up and took her off his hands along with the other two men who were still sobbing on the ground going on about the Devil. 

That just left Dan and … Lucifer. The Lucifer. Satan. The Devil. The Adversary. The Great Tempter. The pri--

"Prince of Lies," Lucifer sighed and it was only then that Dan realized he'd been thinking out loud. "Yes, yes, Daniel. I know my titles. You forgot my favorite though. The Lightbringer." He looked up to see Lucifer looking at him, his head tilted sideways with an expression Dan couldn't place. Why did Lucifer look so tall all of a sudden? When had he sat down again?

"Up you get," he offered, extending his left arm. His scarless left arm. Where there should definitely have been a big ass scar taking up his entire forearm. 

"What are you?" Dan demanded, barely able to manage a hoarse whisper. Lucifer shrugged and huffed out a single sad breath.

"I'm the Devil," Lucifer said almost regretfully. " _ That _ is the one secret I was keeping from you. The one lie of omission. The reason Chloe and your spawn are safe and in danger at the same time. A Schrodinger's safety, if you will. It's the reason we couldn't be friends."

"I-I-I can't… I can't be friends with the Devil," Dan breathed scooting away across the floor, panicking briefly when his back hit the crates. "I … you … I…wha…"

"It's alright, Daniel," Lucifer said, backing away with his hands palm out towards the detective. "It's alright." Despite his words, his face said just the opposite. 

"You're safe and I'm going to leave," he said, his voice soft, hypnotic and soothing. "Now, put down the gun before someone who is not immortal gets shot." It was only then that Dan noticed that he did have his service weapon drawn and trained on his ex-wife's partner--the Devil. With shaking hands he holstered it, wondering if he'd done the right thing when Lucifer--the Devil--nodded and offered him praise. 

"That's right," he was saying. "Now I'm going to leave. You may keep the snacks in your car as recompense for your pudding. Chloe will call you either tonight or later tomorrow. You need to answer that call, Daniel. She will provide you with a number to a therapist who is uniquely situated to help you with this. And there is no need for you to come to work until you are ready. The lieutenant owes me a favor, you see, and I believe that you have some leave coming up. Unlimited  _ paid _ leave. See you soon, Daniel." With those words which had carried an odd edge--threat?-- there was a waft of displaced air and Lucifer was gone. Vanished. As if he'd never been.

As Dan sat there trying to make sense of what he'd just seen, a uni walked up asking, "Where's Mr. Morningstar?" Dan almost laughed hysterically as he realized that his name was a play on words, another of his titles. But he pleased himself when he kept it in. He was also pleased with himself when his voice came out sounding halfway normal.

"He went home," he said. 

"Lucky bastard," the uni scoffed, though his smile was one of fond indulgence. "Comes for the fun, leaves before the paperwork."

"Do me a favor?" Dan asked, wondering if he'd ever hear that phrase the same way again. The uni nodded and Dan finished, "Get them booked. I'll write the report in the morning." As soon as I figure out how to explain where the hell fifteen rounds went. No wonder Chloe hates paperwork. He was pleased and concerned to find a bottle of excedrin and his favorite whiskey--the one he never bought because it was too damn expensive-- in the driver's seat of his car. 

_ Enjoy _ ,  _ no strings attached,  _ the note taped to it said. If note was the right word. The paper was thick and felt expensive. He didn't need to look at the signature to know who left it, but it was hard to miss the flowing script that looked like something out of the 1700's. Probably because it was. The signature, the cardstock, the whiskey they were excessive. Just like the man--Devil--who had sent them. And if that hadn't changed then had anything else? Suddenly Lucifer's last words lost the edge of threat Dan had placed on them and he realizes that the edge had been one of hope.


	6. F is for Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had always thought feathers were beautiful. Especially under a microscope where the intricate pieces that zip them together could be seen. She had never seen feathers like these before.

She had always thought feathers were beautiful. Especially under a microscope where the intricate pieces that zip them together could be seen. She had never seen feathers like these before. They'd been tagged as evidence at the last crime scene. The unis couldn't find any potential source and the scene photos gave no indication either. 

As she'd examined them, hoping that something would come to light Ella had seen the light. Literally. As in, the feathers themselves were glowing. And not just reflecting like she'd originally thought but glowing from within kinda like those fake fiber optic angel wing decorations at Christmas. As the thought crossed her mind, she froze. Like angel wings. Devil wings? Did the Devil have wings? Did  _ Lucifer  _ have wings?

She remembered the suspect, quivering in the chair in the interrogation room, nearly knocking it over when Lucifer entered. Swearing that he'd shot him, too flustered to realize he was confessing to attempting to shoot an LAPD consultant, and that Lucifer had wings. White wings. Just like the feather fragments on her microscope. Lucifer had neither confirmed nor denied it and had done his freaky desire thingy on him, gotten the confession and scampered out of the precinct like … well, a bat out of hell. 

She looked at the feather again, glowing faintly in the petri dish on her desk. Even just looking at it she could feel her frustration and confusion melting away. She felt strangely calm. Looking at that feather was almost like doing valium. With that same odd sense of calm she scooped it up, forgetting to bother with gloves, shoved it in her pocket and headed for the door. She had a Devil to debunk. 

* * *

When asked about it later, Ella would admit that she remembered next to nothing of the drive to Lux. She would tell you that she didn't feel bothered or awkward skipping the line and waving to those still waiting when the bouncer recognized her. She did idly wonder why, if Lucifer actually was  _ the _ Devil, he bothered with a human bouncer when he could easily bounce anyone himself. From what she’d heard he could do it even if he actually wasn’t the Devil. Why did he bother to pay someone to do it? Unless it was just beneath him. She could see him hiring someone with that logic behind it. Then she wondered if the bouncer actually was human and had a brief flare of desire to panic before it dissipated like it was never there. Damn that feather was good. She'd have to ask him if she could keep it if he actually was the Devil. 

The ride up felt just like every other ride up had. The doors opened just like always revealing a home that was oddly both intimidating and inviting much like the man--Devil?--himself. She didn't see him but knew she hadn't missed him or the crowd he would have attracted downstairs. She was about to go check Chloe's home for him when she heard their voices and the sound of something crashing from his open-doored bedroom. 

"Bollocks!" He exclaimed, his voice shot through with something that she couldn't place but that hinted at pain and frustration. 

"Damn it, Lucifer," Chloe snapped, frustration and agitation (and fear?) clear in her tone. "You almost knocked me off the bed and you're slinging blood everywhere. It looks like a murder scene in here. Hold still."

"Pardon me if I can't help but flail as you attempt to pull a few," Lucifer snarled. "They bloody well have feeling, Detective. How about I ask you to sit still and calm while you allow me pull your fingernails out from their root. It's the same difference but this may even be more painful. I am trying but--"

"I know. I know, I'm sorry," came the reply, anger gone and fear and desperation taking over. "It's just, you're losing quite a bit of blood and he shot you and I can't get it to come out but I need to and we can't just go to the hospital even though it's what you need and…"

"You're doing fine, Chloe," he sighed, and Ella could almost see him rubbing the bridge of his nose in her mind. "And I'm not going to die. It’s just a bit of blood. Now try again, Love, and I'll do my best to hold still."

"Would it help if I sat on it?" She asked, her voice revealing her doubt on that plan’s efficacy. "Pinned it down with my weight?"

"Absolutely not!" he snapped and Ella heard something like the rustling of feathers and felt an urge to go see for herself what was going on. "Do you  _ want  _ to be catapulted off the balcony? I don't  _ know _ that I can hold still. I promised to try but that doesn't mean I can do it!" 

"Maybe we should call Maze," Chloe suggested. "She's stronger than I am. Can she pin you down?" Ela heard Lucifer scoff but whatever he was about to say was cut off by Ella's startled squeak. Lucifer was sitting cross legged on a pillow on the floor of his room leaning his arms against his bed, an absolutely massive glowing white fluffy wing extending from his bare back. Chloe was standing beside him with a pair of pliers staring at him in annoyance, mouth open to retort before she froze, staring at Ella like a rabbit would a predator. Lucifer followed her gaze over his shoulder, smiling sadly as he recognized Ella. He almost looked resigned. They all stayed there, frozen and waiting for someone else to make a move. Chloe recovered first.

"Now, Ella, I know this looks like--"

"Madre de Dios. Era la verdad. Eres el Diablo." 

"Siempre," Lucifer replied, leaning wearily against the bed suddenly looking much older than he usually did. "Siempre digo la verdad. Nunca miento. Sí, soy el Diablo. Pero no voy a lastimarte. Nunca te lastimaría. Somos amigos. Estás segura. Lo prometo." Ella stared at him a moment. His words made sense and she'd known this was possibly the outcome coming in but to see it in the flesh. Despite her shock, his soft words sank in and she realized that he looked exhausted and terrified. Of her. The thought that she terrified the Devil himself broke her stupor and she started laughing. Hysterically. 

"That's a new reaction," Lucifer said hesitantly. "Do humans laugh when they're broken? I thought I broke her."

"Sometimes," Chloe agreed, moving slowly towards the cackling Ms. Lopez. "Are you okay, Ella? I know that it's a lot to take in but--"

"He was afraid of me," Ella manages between breaths. "The actual Devil was afraid of  _ me _ . And don't try to deny it. I saw your face. And your wings. Oh my God, you have wings. Do you have a tail too?"

"I do not have a tail!" Lucifer snapped indignantly. "Nor horns nor cloven goat feet. I swear I will skin whoever started that alive if I find out who it was."

"So, white, huh?" Ella asked, choosing to ignore the last statement since she was certain that whoever it was was long dead. "And fluffy. They look soft."

"They are," Chloe agreed. "Not what I expected either. I expected the Devil would have something more … I don't know"

"Chiropteran?" Ella offered. At Chloe's confused expression and Lucifer's exasperated one she added, "you know, bat-like? Or at least black. Laced with red. Something badass. Not fluffy, pure white innocent looking things. Kinda misleading. Lucifer is anything but innocent. Not to imply that you're evil, 'cause you're  _ totally  _ not, but how many people have you slept with?"

"This year or ever?" Lucifer asked, just wanting a time frame. 

"This week," Ella clarified. 

"One," Lucifer said proudly. "Just the Detective." Said Detective rubbed her face groaning.

"We were keeping it under wraps, Lucifer," she muttered.

"Well, she knows the biggest secret, darling. I think we can trust her with the little ones," Lucifer said with a grin. Chloe shook her head about to tell him that his wasn't a secret if he went around telling everyone but stopped, knowing it would do no good. 

"So, was that some weird foreplay I walked in on or--"

"No," they both said before Lucifer sighed and explained. "That idiot Simmons decided to go all murderous when we cornered him and I took a bullet to the wing to protect the Detective from being dead. And the bullet broke a blood feather and  _ someone _ can't seem to pull it out."

"Because  _ someone  _ won't hold still," Chloe returned, brandishing the pliars.

"I'd like to see you do better," he snarled, raising his chin defiantly. 

"What if I help?" Ella offered, having already heard this argument play out. "I know a bit about pulling blood feathers. Um Margaret, my chicken, she broke one the other day and they can't lose this much blood before they … well, you know. And I googled it and I think I can help. Not that you're a chicken more like a peacock, really. And I know that ang-devil wings are totally different but I figure a blood feather is a blood feather, right?"

"What do you need?" he said after a moment, the amused smirk back with a bit of trepidation mixed in. 

"Something sharp and, they said tweezers or needle nose but do you have vice grips around?" He nodded and rose to go behind the bar, a steady trickle of blood oozing from the middle of his left wing. He handed her an ornately carved, curved black knife and a small pair of vice grips. 

"Careful with that," he warned. "Sharpest thing I own. So do you want me back like I was?" She nodded and watched as he sensuously folded himself back to the cushion on the floor, looking at her expectantly. Taking a fortifying breath she stepped towards him and felt anxiety try to take hold only to be washed away in a wave of calm. 

"Damn, man," she muttered more to herself than to him, but the slight turn of his head made her realize that he'd heard. "Your feathers are better than valium at combating anxiety."

"How do you know it's my feathers?" Lucifer asked with a laugh. "It is, but you are the first person to connect them to the sensation. To be fair, I think Chloe may be immune and you and Linda are the only other people to see them. How did you figure it out?"

"I may have the other piece of the broken one in my pocket," she said sheepishly. "I was analyzing it as evidence and it led me here." He hummed nodding.

"If you can get that shaft out, the piece is yours," he offered. "Instant anxiety relief for a bit of pain relief seems like a fair trade. They also have one-time physical healing properties. It will heal any wound. I just ask that you not lose it or offer it up as proof of divinity. My brother is sanctimonious enough without giving him a reason to tell me that he told me so."

"It's a deal," she agreed, turning to her work, surprised by just how sharp the blade actually was and grateful when the feather shaft slid out fairly easily. The effects of the feathers keeping her from freaking out about having her fingers knuckle-deep in angel wings. He sighed in relief as she pressed her finger to the vacant hole to stop the bleeding and the odd shimmering golden substance--angel lymph?--that oozed out. When she was sure it had clotted, she pulled her hand back feeling bereft. As he vanished his wings and grabbed a robe she glanced around the room, blood spatter just visible on the dark marble, and wondered just how examining a feather had changed everything and nothing at the same time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would appreciate suggestions for k, n, and o. I have words but I think there are better ones that are refusing to come so I turn to you :) thank you in advance.
> 
> Spanish translation 
> 
> Ella: mother of God, it was the truth. You are the devil.
> 
> Lucifer: always. I always tell the truth. I never lie. Yes, I am the Devil. But i am not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you. We're friends. You're safe. I promise.


	7. G is for Goat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this a joke?" He asked, looking at the petting zoo with disdain. The sign had promised a menagerie instead it was largely populated by cloven-hoofed, squared-pupiled, horned ruminants. "I assure you, if this was your idea of a joke, it does not amuse."

When the Detective's spawn had invited him to Carnival at her school he had been perplexed but had readily agreed to attend. He'd attended the one in Rio before and it had been an absolute delight. Desires and all manner of pleasure-seeking and debauchery all out in the open. Liquor and drugs and lowered inhibitions. Not to mention mostly naked, sensual people. It was one of the purest examples of exploration of free will he had seen outside of Lux. He and Maze had made it an annual excursion until the Detective came along. 

So when the child invited him, he had had no qualms about agreeing to go. True, he was a bit surprised that the tight-laced PTA who had frowned on his suggestion of holding the Halloween dance at Lux outside of normal business hours would agree to Carnival but he did have to commend them on broadening their horizons. Perhaps he could host this year's Halloween party after all. While the entire premise of Halloween was ludicrous, Beatrice had certainly appreciated the idea. And she had been more than enthused when he had agreed to attend the school's Carnival. He had even dressed a bit more casually for the event, abandoning the jacket and vest for a soft linen dress shirt and slacks. Fewer layers were better for this kind of thing, in his considerable experience. 

The child was ecstatic when he picked up her and her mother, who--in his opinion was wearing _far_ too many clothes for Carnival. (A long sleeve button down and long pants? Really?) But when he commented on it, she had given him one of the looks that suggested he was insane. He thought he'd been done with that when she'd learned he was telling the truth. All the same, he and Beatrice discussed their mutual excitement for what was to come. It turned out it would be her first time to go to Carnival and Lucifer couldn't contain his excitement as he told her an abridged version of his previous experiences while Chloe's expression grew ever more apprehensive. He wasn't sure why. He'd edited out almost all of it and had been able to compress many years of Carnival experiences into a short, PG-13 car-ride. 

"I don't think you know what we're doing tonight, Lucifer," she said finally as he explained to the young child what to expect after dark. 

"Don't worry, darling," he promised. "I will be on my best behavior and will try not to tempt the soccer moms excessively. It's only you who goes home with the Devil at night." She sighed but didn't try to dissuade him further. It was nice how she trusted his word that she had his undivided sexual attention. 

And then they reached the school. The playground was covered by inflatables, garish lights and food trucks? Where was the dancers and the floats? Everyone he could see was fully clothed, bored and, from what he could tell, sober. The spawn was practically bouncing in the backseat and chirping about wanting to go down the slide. Perhaps it would get better after dark? He climbed out of the car eyeing the place with trepidation. Outside the prospects of a good time seemed even more dismal. There wasn't even music! He'd known the PTA were downers, but this was excessive. A travesty even. 

"What is this?" he asked, turning to his Detective wishing he understood what was happening. "What have they done to Carnival?"

"It's the fall fun carnival, honey. Not Carnival," she explained threading her arm through his and taking his hand. "I tried to tell you when you agreed to us coming, but you wouldn't listen waving me off for being 'puritanical.' It's a fundraiser for the school. They sell punch cards and the kids can do activities that cost a certain number of punches, more for better things. When the card is full you buy a new one or you go home."

"How much can I give them to cancel it and let us go home?" he asked, eyeing a child who was holding a large pink cotton candy precariously close to him with distaste. 

"There's not a figure," she laughed. "They will hold it regardless of your generosity. This is the first time we've come since Dan and I were always working. I've always just slipped them a twenty and they've left me alone. But you agreed to come. So here we are. So I suggest you try to enjoy yourself without sin and debauchery." With a sigh he reached for his flask only to realize that he hadn't brought it because it ruined the lines of his trousers and he hadn't worn a jacket. Bollocks.

"And sober," she laughed having see the aborted motion. "Oh, this will be fun."

"And people say I am cruel and evil," he muttered sourly as they followed Beatrice towards the garish, spawn-infested cesspool. "How long must we stay?"

"Until she's bored," Chloe said with a shrug. "You promised her 'endless entertainment that lasts until dawn', remember and told her we could stay as long as she liked and that she could do 'whatever you want. No one judges during Carnival, certainly not me.' I hope you brought your wallet because these things can get expensive for civil servants." As he looked at her flabbergasted, she turned to Trixie with a smile. "What do you want to do first, Monkey?" 

He couldn't argue with her, he had said all of that but at the moment it felt more like a bait-and-switch than an actual binding promise. And did the Detective _have_ to look so smug? As Beatrice looked around in contemplation he wondered if this is how the souls in Hell felt as the demons decided _how_ they planned to torture them of the many options. Perhaps that was it. He had died and this was his personal Hellloop? He quickly rejected the idea. No only would this _not_ be his hellloop, the fact remained that as miserable as the evening promised be, it would end eventually. It was best to please the urchin and then ensure that he was occupied for every future fall carnival. 

"Oh! They have a petting zoo," the child said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Can we do that Mommy, Lucifer? Can we? Can we?"

"Whatever you desire, Child," he said with a nod, pleased with himself when it came out magnanimously rather than the strangled noise he had feared would arise. She squealed with delight and grabbed his hand, leading him towards a red, white and blue sign labeled "petting zoo" and promising "a menagerie of tame animals". He was envisioning himself petting a tiger. Snowball wasn't terrible perhaps the giant gorgeous feline wouldn't be bad either? And then they pushed through the crowd and he surveyed the sad metal circle surrounding trampled grass filled with ...

  
  


"Is this a joke?" He asked, looking away from the petting zoo with disdain while the child released him and went through the first of the double gates. It took everything in him not to call her back. Instead he attempted to appeal to her mother, "The sign promised a menagerie, Love. Instead it is largely populated by cloven-hoofed, squared-pupiled, horned ruminants. I assure you, if this was your idea of a joke, Detective, it does not amuse. You know how I feel about _goats_." She was not amused either, if her glare was anything to go by. 

"That is a petting zoo, Lucifer," Chloe said, her tone the sharp one she used when the child was refusing to listen and obey. It made him bristle a bit. He wasn't a child to be scolded. He was the Devil! Retired King of Hell, ruler of demons. Creator of the stars and eons old. The Lightbringer. He was not a child. He drew up, prepared to remind her just who she was scolding but her unamused expression stopped him in his tracks.

"If you don't want me to talk to you like a child stop acting like one," she said, having apparently seen the affronted look in his eyes at her tone. "You agreed to this. Multiple times. Be nice or go home. None of the adults particularly want to be here either but we're sucking it up for the kids. And it is not my fault that you haven't decided to ask for clarification about things you don't know about before agreeing to them. _Especially_ with children. Goats are a key component of petting zoos. They are large enough to be durable but docile enough to be unlikely to harm a kid. If you look, there are also pigs, miniature cows. The guy on the corner has chicks, ducklings and rabbits. _This_ is a petting zoo. What did you expect? Lions, tigers and bears?"

"Yes, actually," he said sharply. "The words 'zoo' and 'menagerie' had me thinking exotic. They should have called this 'petting farm with a sad assortment of fat goats and motherless babies'. But I did agree. Wait up, Spawn. And stay close. Never trust anything with square pupils. The most back-stabbing demons I ever killed had square pupils." He saw as Chloe rolled her eyes while the child nodded, absorbing his wisdom and looking at the goats with mistrust bypassing them and making a beeline for the chicks and bunnies. 

"Goats aren't evil, Lucifer," Chloe sighed, ignoring or not noticing the way the parent next to her, whose head had risen slightly when he mentioned killing demons, whipped up in confusion at his name. He smiled and waved, showing far too many teeth on purpose. It was everything he could do not to allow his eyes to flash red briefly. But it hadn't been needed. The smile was enough and she crossed herself and gathered her children quickly leaving the _zoo_ behind. He was a little pleased at the reaction. At least _someone_ still respected him. 

"They are, Love," he promised, mood lightened by scaring the soccer mom. "And I know evil. Besides, they're creepy." 

"They're harmless," she argued, approaching one of them with her hand outstretched. It promptly reared back and butted her in the thigh. She stumbled back, surprised by the attack and it was only Lucifer's hand on her arm that saved her from falling onto the grass filled with excrement. The demon in goat flash continued advancing, prepared to butt her again, and Lucifer stepped between them, eyes flashing briefly with hellfire. Perhaps the creature truly was a demon because rather than cower in fear (Snowball's favorite tactic when met with hellfire) it stood on it's hind legs and continued to face him. Before it could deliver its blow, the keeper grabbed it around the middle and drug it off. 

"Sorry 'bout that folks," he apologized as he was struggling with the animal. "Sweetie here has had a bit of an attitude lately. Maybe we should have named her Diablo."

"You most assuredly should not have!" Lucifer snapped. The cat was one thing but a goat, no that would not do at all. "The Devil _hates_ goats. That I can promise you." The man looked at him oddly but before he could explain himself better he felt a small, insistent hand tugging on his.

"Please, Lucifer, the chicks?" the child was asking, her eyes pleading with him for something. It seemed like she wanted something more than to touch infant poultry but he didn't know what that was. With a sigh, he nodded and allowed her to pull him towards the chirping balls of fluff. They were actually cute and rather soft. As were the rabbits. And the ducklings. As Chloe trailed beside them giving the goats wide berth, he couldn't help his grin at the fact that she would have to admit he'd been right about something that evening. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

As he drove them home that evening, an exhausted Beatrice dozing in the back seat, he thought that despite it not being what he'd anticipated, seeing the child so excited had brought him pleasure. He had no desire to ever attend it again, but it hadn't been as dismal as he'd feared when they had arrived. 

"What did you think?" Chloe asked, leaning against the window and looking at him over her shoulder.

"Rio's is more fun," he said honestly. "This was nearly intolerable but the child enjoyed herself. Perhaps it was worth it." She hummed, nodding her head and offering him a knowing smirk. Returning it with one of his own, he reached over the console and began massaging her thigh. She winced and pulled away.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Darling," he said with mock innocence. "Is that where the completely docile and tame goat caressed you with its horns?"

"Fine, you were right," she agreed, rubbing her thigh with a groan that almost made him apologize for real. He hadn't actually meant to hurt her and hadn't thought it had hit her hard enough to leave a mark. Had he known they would have had chevon for dinner. His amusement at hearing that he was right evaporating in concern for her.

"Are you alright, Chloe?" he asked softly.

"It's just a bruise," she promised. "Doesn't even hurt if I don't touch it. But I will avoid goats in the future." He nodded, appeased by her assessment of her health. After a quick glance in the rear-view to insure that the child was asleep, he leaned over conspiratorially.

"Next year we are either working or out of the country when this paltry excuse for a carnival occurs," he whispered. "I'll even reimburse you the twenty to make them go away."

"You have a deal," she responded, pecking him on the cheek. 

"You should be glad I don't deal in souls," Lucifer laughed, turning his focus back to the traffic. "If all it takes is the promise not to make you go to another fundraiser I'd have yours easily."

"You already do," she said with a warm smile that made his stomach twist in a strange and uncomfortable but not unwelcome way. She really was a miracle, this woman who loved the Devil. Heart and soul. 


	8. H is for Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She can still remember the first time she saw Hell Fire Burning in his eyes. She never thought it was something she'd get used to.

She can still remember the first time she saw hellfire burning in his eyes. The red skin of his face wasn't as shocking as those eyes. The way they danced and crackled with a hidden emotion, threatening to burn her alive from the inside out. The way her heart froze in her chest like prey faced with a predator(and wasn't that the truth of the situation?). The sound of her own blood rushing in her ears so loudly she knew that her eardrums would burst from it. The way they had guttered back to familiar brown, and his face had fallen, lips forming words that she couldn't hear over her own pulse but that she knew to be soothing, pleading. His hands out to her palm first, demonstrating that he was unarmed. She saw his lips form her name. Not "Detective" but "Chloe" and suddenly sound rushed back like a tsunami. Sirens and moans and her own frantic whimpers. 

"Are you back with me?" Lucifer, the Devil, had asked, keeping his distance as she gasped for air as if she had just run a marathon. "Chloe? Are you alright?" She had looked up at him and knows that her eyes had to be wide with panic because he had nodded and backed away, looking unbearably sad. 

"I understand, Detective," he had whispered, the words broken and every line of him showing defeat. "I'll give you your space. I… I suggest you speak with Linda. She'll be quite helpful." He'd stayed a bit, giving his statement about Pierce's death and then left while the medics wrapped her in a blanket and threw around words like shock and catatonia. They attributed it to her being shot and them having to kill the lieutenant and she let them, but that wasn't it. She couldn't get the image of those eyes, alight with living flame from her mind and when she managed to push them aside for a moment all she could see was his anguished expression as he had backed away as if  _ she  _ might attack  _ him _ . 

She'd called Linda. They'd talked. It turned out the therapist already knew, had known for some time. But while she seemed hung up on the burned and mutilated flesh, what haunted Chloe was his eyes. Burning him alive from the inside out and threatening to consume her too. She never thought they were something she'd get  _ used _ to. Never though they were something that she could stand to see again. But see them, she did. 

A few conversations with Linda and Maze and  _ lots _ of alcohol later, she decided that he was still the same, strange person he'd always been. Maybe even made a bit more sense than he ever had. A quick, unannounced visit to his penthouse led to another call to Linda who was "not that kind of doctor. Damn it! Why can't you all understand that?!" but who came all the same. Lucifer being Lucifer and trying to drive her off while being glad that she was there. But it didn't work. He needed her and she was going to be there. So, rather than run, she knelt by his bed and held his hands, for his comfort not any real attempt at restraint (since, that wouldn't work, would it?) while they mixed a lethal amount of narcotics and liquor that both he and Linda assured her wouldn't be lethal for him (the Devil) and Linda pulled bullets from his wings (because of course he had wings! Why the hell not?). He was so drugged he didn't seem to realize when hellfire, sluggish and dark red from the sedatives, replaced the familiar brown. As she watched the sedated fire churn and flare with his pain and emotions, she realized it hadn't been her that the hellfire was trying to consume but him. 

As soon as she was sure that he wasn't going to die ("Honestly, Detective, it takes more than  _ that  _ to kill the Devil") from blood loss or lead poisoning, she took Trixie and went on vacation around the U.S. seeing all the natural wonders of the western part of the country. Even though she'd gone to give herself space to think about what she felt now that she knew (and because how often did she get a whole month off with pay that didn't come out of her PTO?) she couldn't stop thinking about  _ him _ . Wondering what he would say about the giant sequoia trees, Yellowstone, Yosemite or the Grand Canyon. Would he be impressed? Or would he think it was just a hole in the ground. Trixie was impressed, wowed even. And even though she had seen most of it before, seeing it with her daughter made her appreciate it anew. 

Trixie took thousands of pictures, gushing over the marvels. Her daughter was happy, enjoying every moment of it, and she was pleased. Every night she composed a message to Lucifer, telling him about what they'd seen. And every night she deleted it. Until one day Trixie said, "I wish Lucifer, Maze and Daddy could have come with us. They would have liked this."

That night, she sent it, and a silly picture another tourist had taken of her and Trixie at the Petrified Forest. He'd replied before he should have had time to read it, even though that time of night on a Friday she wasn't expecting a reply. That one little exchange broke a dam between them and suddenly her impromptu road trip wasn't so much about space as it was fun. It held some of her best memories with her daughter and she hoped Trixie felt the same.

***

She saw him frequently over the next few months but the next time she saw the hellfire burning, it was on the set of The Cabin. Just before he almost took an axe for her, fire had blazed in his glare and probably saved his life, slowing the cameraman just that little bit. Even as she stood there, with an axe in her hand, pressing against his chest, drawing blood and capable of ending it all, he had looked at her, fire ringing just his pupils but not masking the human brown. Some emotion that she doubted either of them could adequately name swirling in the flickers of red and gold. 

His confession that he would always protect her and his simple "don't you know that, Detective?" awoke a fire of her own and she couldn't stop herself from kissing him. Passionately. All of her frustration and confusion and love for the impossible creature before her crammed into one kiss. One that he reciprocated, meeting each emotion with its match from his own soul. When his eyes fluttered open, the chaotic miasma of hellfire was calmer, more structured and soothing in the same way as staring into a campfire. That was the beginning of her comfort with hellfire. 

***

The more time she spent with him, the more she realized that while he did have conscious control over the color of his eyes, strong emotions could cause lapses. When he was calm, they were a tool. A way of extracting confessions and instilling fear of God (and wasn't that ironic when discussing the Devil himself) in suspects should his desire mojo fail or they be unrepentant. Then, they gave nothing away of his thoughts. A simple red night glow of a predator stalking his prey.

But when he was upset or ecstatic, they were a tell. The intensity of the flickering revealing the degree of turmoil beneath. She grew to love them. Even if he could control his voice and expression,the flickering of hellfire gave him away. If she was honest with herself, for that reason alone she almost loved them more than the human brown. 

***

Yes, she was used to them, loved them even. So much so that she forgot that not everyone was. She was lying in bed, trying to sleep and failing because Lucifer and Dan were on a stakeout. Together. She knew that he’d done it because she couldn’t and Trix had asked, but something uncomfortable stirred in her, a knowledge that something was going to go wrong. And then her phone chimed. A text from Lucifer. Four words,  _ Call Dan. He knows.  _

She stared at them far longer than she should have before it clicked. Something  _ had  _ gone wrong and now Dan knew Lucifer was the Devil. She doubted he'd taken it well. With his religious, Catholic, upbringing, knowing that he had hung out with the Devil had probably triggered an existential crisis and Dan tended to lash out when he was troubled. Yes, Dan was probably freaking out, but so was Lucifer. For all that he could be an egotistical braggart, he was very sensitive to actual rejection. 

_ Are you ok? _ She wrote, watching anxiously as the three dots appeared, disappeared and reappeared multiple times before one word came through,  _ no. _ Her heart broke at his simple admission. If he was willing to admit that he wasn’t okay then things were worse than she had feared they might be. 

_ Do I need to have Maze watch Trix and come over? Or do you want to come here? _ She sent, unsure which answer she was hoping for. She knew that he usually liked to lick his wounds in private and while she wanted to be there for him and would be glad to be invited, him admitting that he wanted or needed her would only mean it had been that much worse than she was already imagining. Again the dots appeared and disappeared repeatedly before there were three words,  _ not tonight darling.  _ She nodded sadly. Bad but not apocalyptic. 

_ See you tomorrow, _ she sent. No question mark because she wasn’t asking. He didn’t reply and with a sigh she wrote down Linda’s phone number, sent the therapist a text to warn her what might be coming and called Dan. He must have had it in his hand because he answered on the first ring.

“Chloe,” he breathed. “I … Lucifer … he …” he trailed off with a little moan.

“It’s okay, Dan,” she promised, trying to keep her voice soothing since she remembered having her own atheistic worldview shattered. “He’s still just Lucifer. The same ridiculous, childish person he’s always been. The same guy who steals your pudding and puts hundred-dollar bills in vending machines. Nothing’s changed except now you know.”

“No-nothing’s changed?” Dan demanded, his voice shooting through two octaves. “He’s the fucking Devil, Chloe! What the hell! Which is a real place. Oh, God!. Who is real too.” he trailed off in another moan.

“And Lucifer’s dad,” she added. “And a dick.”

“Oh, Chloe, I can-I can’t do this, Chloe,” Dan whispered, his voice sounding choked. “He … his … the dad he’s always complaining about is  _ God _ ! And he-he’s bullet proof. I-I saw him get shot at point blank, look annoyed, wipe the soot off his forehead and hand the girl the bullet. And his eyes … Wh-what do we do, Chloe?” 

“What we did yesterday?” she asked, shrugging even though she knew that he couldn’t see it. “Nothing’s changed, Dan. He and Maze are--”

“Maze is a demon,” he cut her off, his tone angry now. “You  _ knowingly  _ leave our daughter with the Devil and a demon! What the hell kind of mother are you?! I’ll take you back to court for child endangerment and get full-custody.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” she snarled, her voice a low hiss.

“You can’t stop me, Chloe,” he said, his voice taking on an hysterical edge. “I can take you back and tell them--”

“Tell them what, Daniel?” she demanded, her own voice harsh. “That my roommate is a literal hellspawned demon and my partner is the Devil? They’ll think you’re crazy. I’ll get full custody. You can’t prove any of it.”

“I can prove  _ he’s  _ crazy,” Dan retorted. “He goes around telling people he’s the devil, got admitted to a psych ward, calls himself Lucifer for God’s sake! Even if they won’t believe he’s actually the Devil, they might believe he’s too dangerous to be around a child and therefore so are you.”

“And you think they’ll take your side?” she asked, her temper rising at the implication that she would ever endanger Trixie when it had been his poor choices that had put her in danger more than once. “All that evidence that Lucifer had buried for your sake--don’t think I don’t know who kept you out of jail, Daniel, and no, I didn’t ask him to--it can get unburried again just as easily.”

“Don’t threaten me, Chloe,” Dan snarled. She couldn’t stop her bitter laugh.

“Why? Are you the only one allowed to threaten people?” she asked. “And mine isn’t a threat, Daniel. It’s a promise. If you try to take her from me, I  _ will  _ destroy you. And before either of us say or do something that we’ll regret, I suggest you get out a pen and paper and take this number.” She gave him Linda’s number and hung up on him. As she sat cross-legged in her bed, she was thankful that Lucifer had turned down her offer of company. Had he heard what Dan had said to her, she hated to think what he might have done. She was even shaken by it. She had known that Dan could be hurtful when he was hurt, but that had been excessive. He had been cruel, intentionally hitting where he knew that it would hurt the most. 

While her threat had mostly been an empty one--she didn’t want to hurt Trixie by Dan going to jail for being a corrupt cop--had he overheard that conversation, Lucifer’s would not have been. She had no idea what had gone on between Dan and Lucifer that night, but she had to hope that Linda helped Dan get his shit together before he did something stupid. Because while she was used to seeing Hellfire in the Devil’s eyes, she couldn’t forget that it was also a tool used to make the unrepentant repent. And she had no doubt that with rage and intent behind them, if Dan saw  _ that  _ hellfire, he would never recover. And she didn’t want that for him. Though she did have to admit that Lucifer might be right about him after all; Dan was a douche. 


	9. I is for ice cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So there she sat. A being older than time and a child both looking at her with identical, pleading expressions. She wanted to say no. They hadn't had dinner yet but would a little bit of ice cream really hurt? As it turns out, ice cream would put her willpower to the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one this time guys but it is full of tooth-rotting sweetness, and I don't mean the ice-cream. Enjoy it while it lasts, some of the coming chapters got a bit of me all over the fluff :/

As she'd feared, the confrontation with Dan left both he and Lucifer on edge. Or at least, she assumed Dan was on edge. The douche was ghosting her, which Lucifer, Linda and Maze all assured her was a perfectly normal response to knowing the truth and Lucifer was … well, subdued and quiet which was _wrong._ He was back to how he'd been back when she had first found out. Cautious, courteous and almost timid, waiting for her to initiate contact, physical and over the phone. She hated it. 

She also hated keeping her last conversation with Dan from him. He never asked, probably worried about what she'd said, and she couldn't offer because after she'd calmed down she _knew_ that Lucifer didn't need to know. Lucifer might be willingly cowering when it was Dan's reaction to him but threats towards her and Trixi wouldn't go unanswered. He may go on about his own pride, but the angriest she had ever seen him had been in the face of injustice perpetrated against another. Neither he nor she needed that on their consciences, nor had Dan actually done anything to deserve it. Even so, it felt like a lie. 

So, when they were spending a quiet evening at her apartment, apparently the penthouse was unsuitable for entertaining “the spawn”, and he made a request, the first since that terrible stake out, she had no idea how to respond. Everything in her wanted to give him anything that he would ask for, within reason, because it was so rare that he make requests of her. But it wasn’t really his request, it was Trixie’s. Her daughter had mentioned a couple of times during their game of Monopoly, which Luficer was sinfully good at once he realized the rules and that the bank was not infinite, that mint chocolate chip sounded amazing. Chloe had ignored her, wondering if she would drop it without her actually having to say no and get the _look_ from Lucifer that he gave when he thought she was saying no just to have a power-trip. Sometimes she really wished that she had the ability to smack God upside the head for the issues that he’d instilled in his son. Someday.

Anyway, ignoring the thinly veiled request for ice cream hadn’t worked. Trixie had kept bringing it up. Discussing the merits of cups versus cones with Lucifer who had declared that “cones are by far superior, Child. That way the entire confection is edible and there is no waste,” and debating the merits of various toppings and syrups. The more she talked, the more Chloe could see Lucifer cottoning on to the idea of having ice cream. She was more than familiar with the signs of desire brewing behind his eyes, but she almost laughed as she realized that carnal desire and desire for pleasure of the food variety had nearly the same tells. 

“You know, Darling,” he purred suddenly, stroking Snowball where the cat had curled up against his left side, having decided that a warm Devil was a good cuddle-buddy, “ice cream does sound delectable this evening. You don’t happen to have any, do you?” Chloe shook her head indulgently as he looked at her hopefully and Trixie’s expression transformed into one of triumph. How did he not realize that he’d just been played by a child like he played his piano?

“I don’t,” she responded, feeling a bit of remorse at the way his face fell. “Maze and Trixie tend to eat it all when I buy it.” 

“Well, that is something that we absolutely must remedy,” he said, pushing Snowball aside, much to the irritation of said cat. With a slight wrinkle of his nose, all the stray cat hair disappeared from his blue suit. 

“What are you doing, honey?” Chloe sighed, knowing that he intended to go get the ice cream that he now desired. Hell, she wouldn’t put it past him to use his wings to pop over to Italy for genuine gelato if it tickled his fancy.

“Taking you and the Offspring for ice cream,” he said, offering her his hand when she didn’t immediately climb to her feet. “Come on, then.”

“We haven’t had dinner,” she countered. “We need to eat _food_ before we eat dessert.”

“Then I’ll buy dinner on the way,” he said with a shrug. “Come on, love. I desire ice cream, as does the Urchin. Unless you wish to leave us unsupervised? In an ice cream parlor?” It was an empty threat and they both knew it. Were she to shrug and tell them to have fun, he would find some pretense to convince her to go. While he adored Trixie, he still wasn’t quite comfortable taking her out on his own and would only babysit in the most dire of circumstances. She almost called his bluff, but ice cream did sound lovely. And she wanted to give in but damn it, one of them had to be a responsible adult. Rather than take his hand or reply, she let out a groan, looking between him and Trixie with frustration. She considered herself a strong woman but as it turned out it was ice cream that would put her willpower to the test. 

The two of them exchanged a look, nodded and both turned brown, soulful, pleading eyes on her, the effect only ruined by the hint of mischief twitching around Trixie’s and the faint sly grin on Lucifer’s face. So there she sat. A being older than time and a child both looking at her with identical, pleading expressions. She wanted to say no. Should say no. They hadn't had dinner yet. But Lucifer was offering to feed them first and would a little bit of ice cream really hurt?

“Come on, Darling,” Lucifer said, his voice dripping sin and promising a good time, which she knew from experience he could deliver. “Take a walk on the wild side for once.” She shook her head, laughing quietly at just how corny he could be sometimes.

“You really are the devil, you know,” she muttered, taking his hand and climbing to her feet. “Tempting poor unsuspecting detectives with figures to maintain with sweet, delicious, empty calories.” There was a flicker of doubt in his eyes that he may have overplayed his hand, a brief crack in the cheeky mask that made her regret her words instantly. With a soft smile, she pulled him in and down to apologize in the language he understood best of the many he spoke, pressing a less than chaste kiss to his lips.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way,” she promised, her lips still pressed against his. She felt him smile against her, his hand venturing south beyond what was likely appropriate, She laughed and pulled back, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist, a spot she had been surprised to discover drove him wild, and was rewarded with a flash of hellfire as lust for her overtook desire for ice cream as his primary motivation. 

“Gross,” came Trixie’s groan and Chloe could practically hear her rolling her eyes, a habit she had picked up from both Maze and her mother. “I’m glad that you guys are together and happy but ew. And what about ice cream?”

“You shall have your ice cream, Spawn,” Lucifer sighed, his eyes brown once more as he looked at her with fond exasperation. “And I’ll have you know that despite your puritanical view of affection, in most of the world that was a tame show of affection between lovers, even with spawn present.” 

“Besides,” Chloe cut in grinning at Trixie before Lucifer could tell her how the ancient Romans or Greeks greeted lovers, because he had no filter, even now, “if we were Anna and Kristof or Tiana and Naveen or any other Disney couple you’d be all for the smooching.”

“They’re not real,” Trixie countered. “Can we go now?” Chloe nodded, pulling away from Lucifer to grab her wallet and keys, even though she didn’t need either of them and following her daughter and the devil out the door. 

They arrived at the ice cream parlor without incident. Ordered a couple of greasy cheeseburgers and crinklecut fries before occupying a booth that Lucifer insisted on wiping down himself before he sat and then enjoyed their meal. More than one person looked at Lucifer, in his expensive suit and shiny shoes, sitting next to a woman in a t shirt and khakis with a child across from them in confusion. But he ignored them and focused on debating the merits of the various flavors on offer with Trixie and declaring her an uncultured swine, the twinkle in his eyes and the curve of his lips belaying the harsh words. As she watched her daughter and the Devil bicker in an ice cream shop where he stood out like a sore thumb while entirely oblivious to the oddness of it, she knew that she wouldn’t trade what they had for the world. 


	10. J is for justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Chloe wonders if Lucifer even knows himself. He claims that he is only a punisher of guilt, but it is times like these that she sees that he values justice more than claiming his right to punish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up folks, this one's a long one.

Sometimes Chloe wonders if Lucifer even knows himself. He claims that he is only a punisher of guilt, but it is times like these that she sees that he values justice more than claiming his right to punish. And more than he values himself. And sometimes, it bites them in the ass. This was one of those times. 

They had been working a case where someone had broken into a home. Nothing appeared to have been taken, but the homeowner was dead. They couldn't find any motive to have killed him, but the prints on his doorframe matched up to a city secretary. And she'd been missing for days. It looked like a murder staged as a break-in with the perp on the run.

But she clearly wasn't a hardened criminal, using her own card to book a cheap motel had made her easy to track down. So, they'd picked her up and had Tina, "the robber/murderess" in interrogation. Lucifer had come on a bit strongly and she had been seconds from lawyering up when he pulled his desire trick on her. 

"I wanted to save my brother's life," she had said, nearing tears. Lucifer had pulled back in surprise, looking at Chloe who was sure her own expression was just as confused.

"So, you were going to break into some random old man's house?" Chloe asked, trying to find the connection between her and Mr. Patel. 

"It wasn't random," Tina explained, openly weeping. "He was a regular at the office, always paid cash. Said he didn't trust banks. He was supposed to be out of the country visiting family in India. I thought … but he was dead. Nobody was supposed to get hurt and he was dead."

"How was stealing from Mr. Patel supposed to save your brother?" Chloe demanded, still not seeing the connection. 

"Come now," Lucifer said, his tone shockingly gentle when she seemed reluctant to answer. "Tell us and perhaps we can help you. This seems a rather desperate move for a secretary." 

And tell them she did. It was apparently her first attempt at burglary and she'd only done it because she owed bad people money for bailing out her brother, who had been arrested for selling drugs to pay for their mother's cancer treatment. Well, he'd jumped bail and they were going to kill him if she couldn't come up with double the money by monday, a penalty for him screwing them. And she was afraid of what they might do to her afterwards even if she could, which she couldn't. Not if she sold everything she owned. 

It seemed unlikely and awfully convenient. How many people actually pulled a Breaking Bad? But Chloe had never seen anyone able to lie to Lucifer after he'd mojo'd them. And it wasn't like Tina knew Lucifer well enough to know his quirks, but someone reneging on the terms of a deal for their own benefit seemed designed to win his sympathy. Before she could question Tina further, a knock at the door drew Chloe's attention and she poked her head out for Ella to hand her a file.

"ME report's back," Ella said with a sad smile. "Old Bill was dead for at least a day before she broke in and triggered the alarm. Massive hemorrhagic stroke." Chloe glanced at the file, reading COD and shaking her head. On the positive side, killed by death (who was Lucifer's sister,still not used to that) was outside her jurisdiction and was case closed. And Tina could be handed over to robbery. She thanked Ella and reentered the room to find Lucifer on the phone. In interrogation. Breaking all protocol. She groaned as she realized what he was doing; clearing Tina's debt by consorting with some kind of organized criminal. On camera. In a police station.

"Yes," he was saying, a seductive purr with a hint of malice, "Lucifer Morningstar. That _is_ what I said. And Jimmy, I'm calling in my favor. The debt Tina Terrell owes you is to be expunged in full. No, no, no, Jimmy I don't care what the amount was. That is not relevant. You asked a favor of me. I granted it on the understanding that I _would_ claim something of _my_ choice from you at the time of _my_ choosing. This is that time. And this is that something." The seductive purr was now gone and in its place was open threat.

"Tina's debt will be erased," Lucifer intoned, leaving no room for argument. "You will not retaliate against her or her family or I will hear of it and vengeance will be mine. Do you understand, Jimmy?" Jimmy must have agreed because the aura of menace vanished and Lucifer grinned.

"Wonderful!" He exclaimed. "Hold up your end and leave Tina out of any further dealings and your business with me is concluded. Have a nice life Jimmy. See you in Hell." With that he hung up and turned back to Tina. 

"Done," he said with a shrug. "Your debt has been cleared."

"Thank you," she said, relief evident. "So I just owe you something down the road? One day I get a call and I just do what you ask?" The open relief shifted to apprehension as she wondered just what someone who dealt with both Jimmy and the police could want from her. Would it be legal? Would it be moral?

"Yes," he agreed with a shrug. "But don't look so glum, darling. I am the Devil but I'm not evil. And I won't come after your firstborn. I despise children. And I may never need to collect. I forget just how short your lives are sometimes and our deal is only good up until your death. I hold no sway in heaven and if you end up in hell you're of no use to me."

"So this doesn't mean that I'm going to hell?" Tina asked softly. "Heaven's still an option."

"Depends on you," Lucifer replied with a shrug. "But I don't own your soul, if that's what you're worried about. What would I do with a soul?" Her trepidation didn't entirely fade as Chloe cuffed her to transfer her to robbery for the attempted B&E. It would be a slap on the wrist but that didn't stop Lucifer from handing her a card. 

"Call them," he said. "Tell them I sent you. They owe me a favor or three. And they're far better than any public defender."

"What was that?" Chloe asked, her tone filled with fond exasperation after she passed Tina to a uni for the transfer.

"I don't know what it is you're talking about, love," Lucifer evaded, making for the vending machine. 

"Calling in not one but two favors for her in exchange for one?" Chloe said leaning against the wall while he opened the lock and took snacks before leaving money in its place. "Even after she confessed."

"She was innocent," Lucifer said, his casual shrug offset by his serious tone. "She didn't actually take anything and she didn't kill him. There was no crime. No guilt."

"There was guilt or your mojo wouldn't have worked," Chloe argued. He'd once told her that a soul without guilt or desire wouldn't feel the need to speak and unburden itself to him, even if he asked. So clearly there was at least a little of both.

" _Misplaced_ guilt and a desire to help those she loves," Lucifer countered. "Sending her to jail, fining someone already struggling. That is not justice, it's order for order's sake alone. I-I wanted to help her. She doesn't _deserve_ punishment, Chloe. Not for this." It was everything she could do not to kiss the impossible creature in front of her. And had they not been at work and she not about to have to cover for him making deals with criminals she might have. 

As it was, she smiled at him before pulling out her phone and calling Ella. 

"Hey girl," Ella chirped. "What's up since I saw you less than ten minutes ago?"

"I think Interrogation 3 has some problems with the wiring," she said seriously. "After I came back in from talking with you, the last, oh, ten to fifteen minutes of our interrogation I could hear this squeaking in the walls. I'm afraid the footage and sound may be shot." It took Ella a minute and Chloe could visualize the way her eyes widened as she heard her intake of breath. 

"Gotcha," she said slowly. "So this problem, _infernal_ rats?" Chloe grinned at the pun and so did Lucifer, having heard the entire conversation.

"The most _devilish_ ," Chloe agreed, snickering as Lucifer groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically. 

"Kay," Ella agreed. "I'll talk to my guy and we'll take care of the devilish rats. You guys have fun." The line disconnected and there was a moment of silence before Lucifer broke it.

"You don't have to take risks for me," he said softly. "I can avoid any legal repercussions for my actions."

"And ours," she reminded him. He smiled at her sadly, breaking her "no PDA" rule to stroke her cheek.

"Yes," he agreed. "But not employment related consequences. I am quite charming, as well you know, but once paperwork leaves an office and is digitized it is beyond me to destroy it. There _would_ be a disciplinary record were you caught."

"Then it's best if we don't get caught," she replied, wondering just when she became okay with destroying evidence of wrongdoing and feeling a bit guilty about the change. He sighed and his eyes grew even sadder, almost as if he sensed her budding guilt, which he probably did. 

"I'll be alright," she promised, placing her hand over his. "Lucifer, this won't be enough to drag me down."

"Yet," he replied sadly. "Please do not take further risks for my sake. I don't want you to feel guilty. And I'll endeavor not to commit crimes on tape. Do we have a deal?"

"Not a chance," Chloe said with a laugh. "I'll take whatever risks I feel are necessary for you but I _do_ have a counter offer to keep you from committing crimes on tape."

"Do you then?" He asked, his eyes lighting up at the mystery and the fun she was implying. She nodded, grinning herself. "Do tell."

"Tonight," she promised, running a finger along his collarbone through his shirt before returning to her desk to email over the paperwork on Tina. She should have known better than to plan dates by now.

* * *

Lucifer left early to "arrange things for their negotiations" which was Lucifer for "avoid paperwork". She stayed and worked on her backlogged paperwork waiting on a new body to drop and ruin the evening, but it didn't happen. She finished up and headed out just a bit early, knowing they'd call her if she was needed. The drive home was uneventful, but as she was walking up to her door, she felt something bite her on the arm. She pulled off her jacket looking for the spider hoping to be able to identify it. But it wasn't a spider; it was a blow dart. Before she could reach for her phone or think more than _damn_ , the ground was moving oddly and she knelt before she fell. The last thing she saw was a pair of boots.

* * *

When she came to, her mouth felt like cotton and her shoulders were stiff. She tried to shift them and realized that they wouldn't move. A brief, experimental tug revealed them to be tied to the pole behind her. Her feet were curled under her, numb and also tied to the pole. She opened her eyes but it accomplished nothing, the blindfold blocking all the light. She'd been kidnapped. Lovely. 

"I don't know who you are, but this was a terrible idea," she called, wishing she could have something to drink as the words rasped up her throat. "I'm Detective Decker, LAPD. You've kidnapped a cop. We tend to frown on that. If you survive the rescue op, you'll be in jail a _very_ long time. I suggest you let me go and get a headstart." The laugh that followed caused her stomach to sink, it was calculated, calm, prepared. He knew what he was doing. Prepared was bad news for her odds of a rescue. Or escape. 

"They won't find us, Detective," he promised. "This isn't my first kidnapping. And I have no intention of letting you go until I get what I want."

"I don't recognize your voice," she replied. "But you should know that the LAPD doesn't negotiate. Having me won't help you get anything from them. We can all still walk away from this. I'm not hurt, I can't identify you. Let me go and no harm no foul."

"The LAPD may not, but Lucifer Morningstar does," the man replied simply. "He cost me a lot of money today and he _will_ pay me back. I know he's fond of you and--" Chloe couldn't help it, she started laughing, great paroxysms of laughter that pulled at her bound shoulders. Even when he kicked her, she couldn't control it. _He_ was attempting to extort _Lucifer?!_ This man planned to blackmail the Devil himself? Finally she calmed enough to speak.

"You kidnapped me to try to force a ransom from Lucifer?" She finally asked, trying and failing to keep the incredulity from her tone. "You do know who he is, don't you? Jimmy, right?"

"We've met," the man said shortly. "And he's an eccentric nightclub owner who thinks he's the devil and plays in a world he barely understands."

"Then why did you wipe the debt?" Chloe asked, wondering how he justified that when he clearly didn't think Lucifer was telling the truth. 

"You don't break deals with him," the man said simply. "Bad things happen to people who cross Lucifer Morningstar. Everyone knows that."

"So, kidnapping his partner," Chloe said slowly, wishing he could see her rolling her eyes, "that's going to end _well_ for you?"

"I'll make my safety a condition of your safe return," he said like she was missing something simple. "You don't cheat him but he doesn't cheat you either. If he promises my safety from him, then I'm safe." 

She wanted to tell him that was decidedly untrue given what he'd done but didn't want to provoke him unnecessarily. After all, Lucifer might promise not to hurt him personally, but Maze was not Lucifer, nor were any of the other people who owed him favors and Chloe had no illusions that Lucifer would not retaliate in ways she was better off not knowing. Apparently Jimmy didn't know that Lucifer was a master of loopholes.

"Have you called him yet?" She asked. "Told him where to make the drop?"

"I was waiting on you to wake up," he said darkly and she knew then that he planned to prove she was alive and in his clutches and possibly not gently. She flinched as she felt him groping her hip but he only took her phone and used her thumb to unlock it before she heard it ringing on speakerphone. 

"Detective!" came Lucifer's voice, the smooth tones tinny from the little speaker. "I was worried that you'd stood me up, darling. Paperwork again or something more interesting?"

"I'd say it's more interesting," the kidnapper replied with a chuckle.

"Jimmy," Lucifer snarled the sound both mocking and irate simultaneously. 

"Lucifer," Jimmy replied. "Let's make this simple. I have your girlfriend. You have money. I suggest we trade." Lucifer's responding laugh was harsh and humorless. 

"You're trying to extort _me_ ," he scoffed. "Is this about Tina?"

"Yes!" Jimmy snapped. "She owed me good money Lucifer. And she knew what she was getting into when she borrowed it. You had no right to interfere. You took something from me so I took something from you." Chloe could practically see the glare Lucifer would have on his face, the muscle ticking in his jaw.

"I warned you I would ask something of you someday," Lucifer said, his tone tightly controlled thing that Chloe could hear the beginning of a growl creeping into. "You knew this day would come and that for what I had done for you that there would be a steep price. You had no right to take her and, for your sake, she had best be unharmed."

"She's fine, aren't you, Detective?" Jimmy asked, nudging her with his foot to prompt her to speak.

"I'm okay," she agreed, knowing that Lucifer's mind would have gone to the worst possible scenario. "Just a bit stiff and I have a headache. Nothing's bleeding or broken. I'll live." She heard Lucifer hum contemplatively.

"I won't make a deal with you for her, Jimmy," Lucifer said seriously. "That sets a very bad precedent. And I wouldn't want anyone else getting bright ideas on how to manipulate me. The only deal I will make is that if you return her to me now and unharmed you will live. Make me come for her and you will wish you were dead _long_ before I allow you to die." The cold calculation in those words sent a shiver down Chloe's spine. She knew he had to have done things like this in hell but knowing it and hearing it were totally different.

"I won't be giving up my leverage so easily," Jimmy countered, his voice far less sure than it had been moments before. "You're going to have to sweeten the pot, Lucifer. That is if you want her back in one piece. Or I can send her to you one finger at a time until you change your mind." Chloe felt something sharp press into the back of her ring finger and couldn't stop her hiss or gasp. There was pressure and she could feel blood flowing down her finger but he made no move to actually cut it off.

"Sweeten the pot, Lucifer," Jimmy repeated. "It's still attached, for now."

"I will not. And for that, I suggest you pray for mercy, maybe Dad's listening today," Lucifer growled. "Because you will get none from the Devil. Chloe, dear, perhaps you should pray as well." Chloe could have kicked herself. She had forgotten that he could hear prayer and use it like a GPS. Closing her eyes she willed him to hear and thought two words, _hello Lucifer._ There was a sound of displaced air and Jimmy's hands were suddenly off her hand, replaced by warm, long fingers she would know anywhere.

"Hello, darling," she said softly as he ripped through her bonds. "Glad you could make it." The fact that he had no witty reply revealed just how irate he actually was. It was also telling when he stroked her cheek and pressed a kiss to her forehead but made no move to remove the blindfold. The implication clear; he didn't want her to watch what he was going to do. She felt it in her chest more than heard it when he saw the gash in her finger, an inhuman rumble that shook the ground. There was the soft brush of a feather and the pain vanished before he left her side, the temperature in the room rising with his temper. She could hear Jimmy scampering across the floor, panicked half-words falling from his lips and couldn't decide if it was better not to see what was happening.

At the first crack of breaking bone and scream of pain, she decided it wasn't and pulled the blindfold off. She wished she hadn't. Lucifer was dangling Jimmy by a broken arm, flames wreathing him and casting an otherworldly, hellish glow to the otherwise dark warehouse. Jimmy was staring and gaping, silent words falling from his mouth as Lucifer brought their faces close despite the almost foot of height difference.

"I warned you," Lucifer whispered, his dark tone promising pain. "She is off limits. And the story of what happens to you now will serve as a message to others. Detective Decker is not leverage against me." There was another crack and a scream and suddenly Jimmy was dropped, cradling his broken arm while blood poured from his hand where Lucifer had removed his ring finger. She felt her stomach turn at the brutal efficiency of the action. She thought it amazing that she didn't flinch as he walked to her side, never looking at her, and took her handcuffs from her hip with so light a touch had she not seen it she wouldn't have known that he had. 

"I'll give them back," he promised. "With nothing to link you to this." With that he drug Jimmy to the pole and cuffed his unbroken arm to it, closing the cuff far tighter than protocol allowed. 

"Please, have mercy! I didn't know," Jimmy said, finally finding his words as Lucifer ushered Chloe out of the warehouse, his hand hovering but not touching her. Chloe flinched as the final desperate, "please!" Snuck out before the door closed. Undisturbed, Lucifer pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Mazikeen," he said, his voice hard and impassive. "There is someone at the address that I am about to text you upon whom I need you to utilize your _unique_ skill set. No holds barred but make it last. We need to make an example. Leave some for me. I'll even donate a feather or two to the cause." There was a pause before a sinister smile stretched across his face. "Lovely. See you soon, Mazey." He hung up and sent a text before turning to Chloe and reaching for her hand, stopping just before touching her and waiting for her to extend it. She didn't.

"I … I can't condone this, Lucifer," she breathed, hugging herself. "You're planning to torture that man. And I'm a cop. I'm supposed to protect people."

"You serve justice," he argued. "He's guilty of kidnapping at the minimum, extortion of multiple people … he's not a good man, Detective. His soul is mine to do with as I will and not because he made a deal with me. He's hellbound. He _deserves_ this." He seemed to sink in on himself a bit before he continued, his words softer.

"I cannot allow his kidnapping you to go unpunished," he said, looking at her no longer bleeding hand. "If word got out that he'd tried and survived, more will try. I have enemies, Chloe. So do you. They cannot be allowed to think that harming those I care about will motivate me to give them what they want. If something happened to you, to Beatrice, because of me … I don't ask that you condone it. I don't even ask that you speak to or see me again once it's done but I _will_ use him to send a vibrant message that you and your child are off limits. And if you hate me for it, so be it."

"I can't stay," Chloe whispered, tears coloring the words. She knew he was right, there had to be a prescient set, but she also knew that this wasn't the way it was supposed to work. You didn't take the law into your own hands. Jimmy should go to prison for his crimes. That was how mortal justice worked. 

"I know," he replied, handing her the keys to the black car parked beside her. "Call me if you want to see me. I … I won't force you to endure my presence. But, well, this might take a while." He took her hand in his, kissing it and looking at her with such sadness her very soul wept. His brown eyes said he knew that this was goodbye. And then his words confirmed it.

"Whatever you decide, know that I will love you for eternity, Chloe Decker. And I would give anything for your safety, even your esteem of me," he whispered before turning back to the warehouse. "Go, Darling. This is the Devil's work." 

She went. 

* * *

Somehow, even though she intended to go home, she found herself at Lux. On autopilot she parked in the underground garage and took the private elevator to the penthouse. It was eerie without him there, the lack of light and noise and life leaving it cold and empty. As she sat at the bar, looking around she realized that was what her life would be like too. He'd brought so much joy and fun and love, could she really give that up because he answered to a higher power than the California government? Could she live with herself if she didn't, knowing that his hands were stained with the blood of many? Jimmy wasn't the first man he'd tortured. 

_Guilty souls needing justice_ , her mind corrected. _He only punishes the guilty. And judgment is his to deliver._ She had known this wouldn't be easy from the moment she'd seen his face but how many of her morals was she willing to sacrifice on the altar of their love. Could they make this work? Should they? She knew that the answer was likely no but that raised a different question; if she was done, why was she at his home?

* * *

Hours later, she's still sitting there in contemplative silence when he comes home. He doesn't notice her and she doesn't speak, enjoying the chance to watch him candidly. Spatters of blood mar his dress shirt and forearms. But his hands are coated, a crimson color she knows means arterial. He got his "justice". But he doesn't look victorious. His shoulders droop and every line of his body scream defeat as he goes through the door to his room. She hears the tap turn on and the sound of vigorous washing before there's a frustrated sigh and the shower turns on. That doesn't last long either before there is another, louder noise of frustration and the shower, too, is silenced. 

Moments later he comes back into view, naked, of course. But she isn't admiring him as she usually would. Instead, her eyes are drawn to his hands, red skin remaining, even after washing, instead of the usual pristine white. The random blotches of red that decorate his chest, back, neck. Thankfully there are no spikes or claws, yet. But it breaks her heart to realize that even while she's been here judging him, he was judging himself. And deciding he was a monster. She wondered if his wings were bat wings again or still archangel wings. 

Before she can draw breath to speak, he sits on the end of his bed, elbows on his knees (not touching his own hands, she notices) and his back bowed so his head is almost between them. It can't be a comfortable position and she thinks that's why he chose it. His shoulders shake and she realizes that he's crying. 

"Lucifer?" she says softly, shocked at how creaky her voice sounds. He jerks up instantly, his spine straight, scrambling for a sheet to wrap himself in. But then he notices her at the bar and shoves his hands behind his back and a tight smile in place.

"Detective," he says, expression wary and his posture suggesting he was ready to run. "I didn't hear you come up."

"I've been here," she told him, offering him a sad smile. "Since I left the warehouse. I … for some reason I drove here."

"Well, I do have better alcohol," he said, glancing longingly at the bar but not moving from his place as far from her as the penthouse allowed. Almost as if he were afraid of her.

"I haven't touched it," she said, needing him to know that she was sober.

"You could have," Lucifer said, meeting her eyes for the first time since they'd said goodbye outside the warehouse. "Anything that you desire that is mine to give is yours. Always."

"I know," she whispered, sighing. 

"But it's not enough, is it?" He asked, sinking in on himself with resignation as the thought assaulted him that he would never be enough. She sighed again, tears filling her eyes at just how little he thought of himself.

"Lucifer," she sighed moving from her spot, surprised by just how stiff she was (how long had she been sitting there?) And going to sit beside him. Even though she left space between them it apparently wasn't enough because he scooted away. 

"What happened tonight, Lucifer," she began only for him to cut her off.

"Just go," he pleaded. "Don't make me listen to you telling me … please don't, Chloe. I … I … don't." The last plea was so plaintive and broken that it did make her cry. Warning him with her eyes, she reached being him and grabbed his wrist, pulling gently to get him to move it. At first he resisted but then his shoulders slumped further and he allowed her to move it. As she watched, she could see the mottled, red skin creeping up his wrist like blood poisoning. With a sigh, she bent and pressed a kiss to the line where white and red met. 

"What are you--" he sputtered only to stop with a low moan when she kissed the spot on the inside of his wrist that he loved. With a sad laugh, she moved to the next spot on the sensitive skin of his inner forearm.

"Why?" He asked as she continued pressing chaste kisses up the spreading red spots on his arm. 

"What you did tonight, to Jimmy," she began hoping that she could find the right words, "I understand why you needed to do it. I don't like it. I don't think I ever will. And I don't think I could like who that would make me if I did but I do understand. To keep me and Trixie safe, you had to send the underworld a message in a language that they understand and using the cops would have made you look weak and me a target." She waited and he nodded, his eyes shifting to hellfire, turbulent with the depth of the confusion, hurt, and hope churning in his mind. 

"I understand it," she continued, "but I… I don't like it, Lucifer. I don't like the idea that these hands, that are so gentle with me, that braid Trixie's hair, that they could rip a man apart. I know that they have. God, I know that you're not a saint! You're the Devil, King of Hell and that title wasn't free. I know that. But knowing it and _knowing_ it are two different things."

"Please, just leave," he whispered, tears lacing the words. "I'd rather wake up every morning wondering if today will be the day you'll call than know you never will. Have mercy, Chloe."

"I'm not leaving," she said simply. "I don't want to leave. I … as uncomfortable as I am with what you did, _this_ ," she gestured at the red flesh botching his skin, "this tells me you weren't entirely comfortable with it either." He opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off.

"Not the acts, Lucifer," she clarified. "I know that wasn't your first time and probably won't be the last. And I don't know what it says about me but … I… it doesn't make me love you any less. That you would do something that clearly bothered you for my sake, for Trixie… I can't condone it but I can't condemn it either. I still love you, Lucifer. And I'm still here." 

She scooted closer to him and this time he didn't scoot away. Warning him with her eyes, she pressed a kiss to a vibrant crimson patch just above his collarbone before laying back on his bed and pulling gently on his shoulders to get him to join her. 

He resisted only a moment before lying beside her and allowing her to guide his head to her chest. He sighed and she felt warm tears soak her blouse as she stroked his hair. As they lay there, he in silence and she whispering words of love and affirmation, she pondered the oddness of the situation.

She was a detective. Her job was to punish those that hurt others. And no one could deny that he and Maze had hurt Jimmy, but she had no desire to punish them. Besides, nothing she could do to him could be worse than what he was doing to himself. His celestial self-actualization turning him into a literal monster.he was many things but a monster wasn't one of them. 

Yes, he was the Devil. A punisher of guilt by trade. But what about when that guilt was his own? As she watched the crimson patches fade to perfect pale skin she knew that even if he was quick to pass judgment on others, he was quicker and harsher with himself. She wondered what he would have done to himself had she not been there that evening. 

Casting a pensive glance at the ceiling she wondered if her ending up in his house hadn't had the same cause as her birth. _If it was you that led me here tonight then thank you_ , she thought to Lucifer's father. There was no answer but she hadn't expected one. With a deep sigh, she pressed a kiss to his head, watching the last patch of red over the place his wings would be if they were visible fade. As his breathing evened out with sleep, she closed her own eyes cradling her fallen angel who, despite his claims, gave selflessly, expected others to fulfill their own desires at his expense with a vague promise of repayment. No, she decided, Lucifer didn't know himself. It was a good thing she did.


	11. K is for Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows that the knowledge shouldn't surprise him. The guy had said it from the beginning. But that doesn't make it easier to cope with when the metaphor falls aside and truth, ugly and glaring, takes its place. Lucifer was the Lucifer. Satan. The deceiver. He says he never lies, but every fiber of Dan's being knew that had to be a lie. His entire life he'd heard that the Devil was an evil deceiver sent to tempt mortals to sin and damnation

He knows that the knowledge shouldn't surprise him. The guy had said it from the beginning. But that doesn't make it easier to cope with when the metaphor falls aside and truth, ugly and glaring, takes its place. Lucifer was _the_ Lucifer. Satan. The deceiver. He says he never lies, but every fiber of Dan's being knew that had to be a lie. His entire life he'd heard that the Devil was an evil deceiver sent to tempt mortals to sin and damnation. 

His ex-wife's partner didn't _seem_ evil but the guy was definitely a tempter. And he did deal in favors, deals with the Devil that _did_ hurt others. Multiple examples sprang readily to his mind. Benny Cho, Delilah, the case where at least two of his past lovers ended up murdered. They may not have found a way to link him directly to it but Dan knew there was a connection. And Charlotte. 

If Lucifer was a good guy he would have skipped the whole "first-murderer" thing and led with "criminal mastermind." But he hadn't. And Charlotte had died, defending Amenadiel, if Chloe was to be believed. And what the hell was up with that? If Lucifer was the Devil then Amenadiel, his brother, is an angel and he still let Charlotte die for him. Dan had thought that angels were supposed to be good, not self-serving assholes. And if half of what Lucifer said about his father was true, Chloe might be right and God is a dick. Which was a thought he knew he was going to hell for even entertaining. But could Chloe or Lucifer be believed? 

Clearly Chloe's judgment was impaired. Assuming that half of it was true, she lived with a demon, fucked the devil and had fucked the first-murderer. How was he supposed to trust her? He looked at the number she had given him. Linda's number. Lucifer's therapist, Chloe and Maze's friend. Not exactly an impartial source. No, Linda couldn't help him. With a sigh he stood up, not bothering to change out of the same clothes he'd been in for days, grabbed his keys and walked out the door bypassing his car and following his feet to answers.

It didn't take long to get to the church. He ignored the looks parishioners gave him as he walked though looking and probably smelling like a homeless drunk. His crisis didn't care about their judgement. They didn't have the knowledge he did; they didn't _know._ With steps that were steady despite the amount he'd been drinking, he walked up to the oldest priest and sat beside him. The priest finished his prayers before turning to him.

"You seem troubled, my son," the priest said. Dan couldn't contain his hysterical laugh. Troubled was putting it lightly. He was falling apart. "Do you seek guidance, confession or penance?"

"Guidance and knowledge," Dan replied. "I … I don't know what's true anymore, Father. I ... I fear the Devil. A frien--person I knew, he's not who I thought he was. I learned the truth recently and I … before we continue, do you think it is possible for the Devil and demons to walk the earth? And can they be driven out?" The priest surveyed him, taking in his frantic eyes and desperation. 

"I believe that in biblical times it was so," the priest said after a moment. "Before Christ, angels, demons and the devil himself walked the earth. I do not deny our teachings but science must also prevail. Most modern cases of supposed possession were psychiatric in nature and the church has moved away from exorcism, if that is what you are seeking. Perhaps you should entertain the idea that your friend needs psychiatric care rather than an exorcism." Dan nodded, wondering if he should have chosen a different priest.

"So you believe in the Devil, Father?" Dan asked. "As more than an abstract concept? As a flesh and blood man, full of sin and temptation?"

"The bible says it is so, my son," the priest answered. "He was physically present in Eden, tempted Jesus in the desert. There is record of his physical presence on Earth."

"If he was to come to earth again, would he be attractive or repulsive?" Dan asked. "Would his lies sound like truths? Would they be tempting? Could he fool even the educated and wary into acting on his whims?"

"Do you need help, my son?" The priest asked, growing concerned as Dan became more frantic. "You aren't hearing voices, are you? No one is telling you to harm yourself? That is not the temptation of which you speak?"

"No, Father," Dan promised, realizing that Chloe had been right about this much. If even the priests wouldn't believe him, no one would. And if he wasn't careful, people would decide that he was crazy and he would never be able to keep Trixie safe. 

"Are you certain?" The priest asked, attempting to stare into his soul, his eyes having little effect after having felt the pull of the Devil's. "There is no shame in having a crisis and needing help. That is the entire point of faith." Dan wanted to tell him that _knowing_ it was true defeated the purpose of faith but didn't want to worry the priest when he was content in his lack of certain knowledge. 

"I'm certain, Father. Thank you for your time," he said, rising to leave and seek guidance from another source. 

* * *

When he got home, Linda's number on his table drew his attention like a flashing beacon, but he pushed it aside. With a deep sigh, he opened a new bottle of crown and opened his laptop, praying to God that the internet would hold the answers he needed. 

Many hours and _many_ rabbit holes later, he was no closer to answers than he had been. The church held that Lucifer, Satan, the Devil, was evil. Existing only to tempt men and women to trading their eternal souls for worldly glory and eternal damnation.

But talking to someone from the church had gotten him nowhere. With a deep sigh and another glass of whiskey, he'd opened an incognito tab and googled "satanism". If christianity couldn't help him, perhaps a religion dedicated to Lucifer could. Wikipedia's was less than helpful. Lots of big words like epicurean and esoteric that didn't really tell him anything. Then there was the explanation of the satanist bible and so many things fit what he knew of Lucifer; namely that bit about self indulgence being desirable, the seven deadly sins being necessary and beneficial and hate and aggression being advantageous. The only other person more self indulgent, violent and sinful that he knew was Maze who was a demon. These tenets seemed like they been ordained by Lucifer himself. But it still didn't say he was evil.

Though, in Dan's experience, satanic rituals tended towards violence and death. Anyone who demanded blood sacrifices from their worshippers couldn't be _good_. His mind categorically refused to analyze the blood sacrifices demanded by God in the old testament. That was entirely different. God wasn't evil, no matter what his spoiled brat of a son tried to say. The Lucifarians were much the same. No mention of evil and all focused on the unencumbered exercise of free will. There was only one obscure cult that seemed to believe that Satan and Demons walked the earth and should be sent back, but they didn’t have much on their website and on a what the hell impulse he sent an email off to the “contact us” link. What could it hurt?

With another sigh, he picked up his phone and dialed Linda Martin. He almost hung up when she answered but couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Dan," she said, her voice warm," I've been expecting you to call. Do you want to talk over the phone or to come by my office?"

"Your office," he slurred, surprised by how unclear his own words were. 

"Do you want to sober-up first?" He made a sound of disagreement in his throat and she hummed. "I'll send an uber to your place. Lucifer's treat. See you in half an hour." He wanted to ask how she knew his address but even sloshed he knew that Chloe had likely given it to her. Knowing he'd need it, he poured the rest of the bottle into a to-go thermos and walked to his porch to wait for his ride. 

* * *

When the Uber arrived a bit later, the driver looked at him with more than a bit of apprehension as Dan stumbled his way down the driveway and into the backseat. Dan looked at him when the car didn’t start moving even though he was buckled in and raised his hands and eyebrows wondering what the dude’s malfunction was.

“If you have to puke, let me know and I’ll pull over,” the guy said, his lip wrinkling in disgust. “I don’t do puke. Especially not on the interior.” Dan nodded, wondering just how green a drinker this guy took him for. And, true to his beliefs on his constitution, he made it to Linda’s office without losing his cookies. Not that there were cookies to lose. He wasn’t sure if he’d consumed anything but liquor since he _knew_. But alcohol had calories, right? 

Not bothering to stop by the public restroom to wash his face, he stumbled into Linda’s office. She looked up at him, cool and calculating and he could feel her judging him. Weighing all the pieces of him to try to get the full measure of him. 

“You look like hell,” she said finally. The pun wasn’t lost on him and he couldn’t help the hysterical laugh that broke from him, forcing him to sit on the couch or the floor.

“Still better than I was when I found out, though,” she added after he calmed a bit. “At least you seem functional, though from the smell of booze wafting off you that is quite a feat and something you may need help for.” 

“Pretty forward for a therapist,” Dan snarked, the hint that he was an alcoholic hitting a little close to home after the time he’d had lately--and the liquor bill. 

“Am I?” Linda asked, raising an eyebrow, “Your therapist that is? I was under the impression that this was a friendly conversation. Do you want it to be therapy?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Dan groaned, burying his head in his hands, gripping his hair and pulling. “I don’t know what the hell I want anymore. And why the fuck does everything lead back to _him?_ ” 

“Because, heaven, hell, God, the Devil, they are all part of our origin, our shared history,” Linda said with a shrug. “Is it therapy or not? You need to decide because if it’s not then I’d like a drink out of the bottle in my desk.” In response Dan lifted his own to-go cup in a salute and nodded his consent for her to indulge. After all, who was he to judge, hammered as he was. She nodded and pulled a bottle of tequila, expensive tequila, from her desk. When he raised an eyebrow, she shrugged.

“It was a gift,” she supplied. Neither of them needed her to say from whom. “So,” she said, taking a sip and sitting down across from him, “I’d ask how you’re doing but it’s rather obvious. Instead I’ll ask what made you call me? I’ve been expecting it for over a week. Why today?”

“I just … no one had the answers,” he said sadly. “I went to the church and they basically told me that the Devil is mythology. A scapegoat, but not a flesh and blood entity anymore. The internet was no more enlightening. The satanist, the luciferians, no one could tell me much. They kept going on about how Satan, Lucifer is for free-will and uninhibited self-expression. There was one cult but they seemed a bit off.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me, Chloe or Lucifer himself,” Linda asked. “Even Maze would be willing to answer questions on this. She loves to brag to people who actually _know._ ”

“I can’t,” Dan said, shaking his head and rubbing his face. “Why can’t you understand that?! Lucifer’s the fucking problem! And Chloe’s fucking him so she out. I tried to talk to her and she …”

“She what?” Linda probed. 

“She threatened to send me to fucking _prison,_ ” Dan snapped. “Implied that I owe my freedom to Lucifer and he could rescind it if I stepped out of line.” Linda doubted that was what had happened. Not without some serious goading on his part, but challenging him on this would be unproductive.

“So that left her out,” she summarized, “but what about me, Maze?”

“Maze is a demon,” Dan deadpanned. “I’m catholic. We don’t consort with demons. My Abuelita would never forgive me. She’d send me to hell herself if she knew about me spending time with the Devil.”

“Like I’ve spent time with the Devil, tainting my advice,” Linda read between the lines. Dan nodded and it was Linda's turn to sigh and take a sip. “Would it help if I told you how I found out and how I reacted?” Dan nodded. “And before you light into me, I have his full permission to disclose anything I need to to ease your mind.” The look he gave her said that it would have never even occurred to him to worry about that. She took another sip, before eyeing the glass and downing it, pouring another. If she drank it all she knew that she could just mention it and there would be a new bottle on her desk.

“So, Lucifer had been my patient for a while,” she muttered, looking at the spot on the wall where Lucifer had put his fist through, invisible to all who didn’t know it was there. He had sent wonderful repair men. “I was still convinced that he was someone who had had a psychotic break and created the “Devil” personal to repress great trauma, a theory your ex-wife shared at the time. One day he came to me looking about as rough as you do today, kept going on about how he’d killed his brother, Uriel--”

“He killed his brother?!” Dan cut in. “He killed an angel?”

“To defend His mother, Maze, and Chloe,” Linda supplied, but before she could continue and explain her demand for the truth and reaction to the revelation, the door swung open and the Devil in question stormed in. He was half-clothed, disheveled, with his hair mussed and beginning to curl a bit and Linda knew from personal experience that he had either just finished or was just beginning to have sex before he arrived. 

“Doctor! I have urgent need of your expertise,” he was saying, not sparing a look at Dan who was not cowering on the couch as far from the Devil as he could get and wondering if they hadn’t summoned him by saying his name too many times. A rich, literally God-damned Beetlejuice. 

“It'll have to wait a bit,” Linda said with a patience and sternness that had Dan both admiring her and fearing for her, saying “no” to the Devil. “I’m in an _important_ session.”

“Whatever it is it can wait,” Lucifer countered, still not looking at Dan, his eyes fixed on Linda. “I will pay for their session time, the reschedule and, from what it smells like in here, rehab if necessary. Doctor, the Detective is _turned on_ by this,” and with that his eyes shifted to the hellfire that still haunted Dan’s dreams both waking and sleeping before they guttered back to brown. “Why would she find those an aphrodisiac? I have much more appealing qualities, as well you know.”

“Lucifer!” Linda hissed, nodding pointedly at the couch. Lucifer sighed, sparing a glance at Dan before freezing, his expressive face falling impassive and his large frame curling in on itself, seeming smaller. 

“Oh,” he breathed, backing up, his large hands held in front of him just like the last time Dan had seen him. “I … a-apologies, Doctor, Detective. I … we’ll just discuss this at my scheduled appointment, shall we? Daniel.” The last was said with a small nod as Lucifer backed out the door, closing it gently behind him. There was a small rush of wind and a sound like wings and Dan knew that the Devil was well and truly gone.

“Sorry about that,” Linda said, offering him a small smile and a shrug. “He’s better than he was but waiting his turn is still not something that Lucifer understands. Something about having been a King, I suppose.”

“I … I can’t do this,” Dan muttered, climbing to his feet. “I can’t. Not with you. Not … you slept with him?” 

“So has half of LA,” Linda replied, refusing to be shamed in that by Dan. “And it was consensual.” Dan shook his head, disgust rising in him and headed for the door. Maybe that was the problem. The reason only he seemed to believe that Lucifer was evil. He was one of the only people the Devil _hadn’t_ fucked. Maybe that was how Lucifer gained sway over people? Sex, the man--Devil, did practically ooze sex appeal. As he sat on the steps waiting for his ride home, he wondered how many people at the precinct Lucifer had slept with to get everyone to turn a blind eye to his antics. Had he slept with Chief Monroe?

Once he got home, he went back to his computer, hoping different search ml

terms would yield different results. When he woke his computer, in bold with exclamation points of a high priority email was a reply from the Militibus ex Deo, the cult he'd contacted on a drunken whim.

_Mr. Espinoza,_

_Thank you for your interest in our organization. We pride ourselves on being true believers in God Almighty and utilizing our skills to oppose the Devil in all of his works. In answer to your question, we do believe that he walks the earth periodically, as do his demons possess the flesh of mortals for their own debauched purposes._

_We do believe that he would appear attractive. How else would he lure others to sin? And remember that once he was the brightest of God's Angel's. But it is a facade. He was the most favored of God, and then he betrayed The Almighty just as he seeks to betray us all. We believe that no measures are too extreme to protect the world from the Devil or his minions. If this aligns with your views feel free to respond to this email and one of our representatives will continue corresponding with you. If not, we wish you the best on your spiritual journey and may you find peace with The Almighty and yourself._

_Sally Jones_

_PR Director for Milibus ex Deo._

It was clearly a fake name, but the rest of the email was promising. It may have still been the alcohol or the frustration urging him on, but all the same, Dan responded to the email.


	12. L is for Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wonders why Lucifer never sleeps in complete darkness. In his penthouse, the glow of the bar and the city provides faint illumination. At her house he request a nightlight. She knows it's not fear but she gives him what he desires. Then she asks.
> 
> "Let there be light, and all of that," Lucifer laughed bitterly. "I can't remember darkness. Not before Hell. It's kind of hard when the bloody things glow."

She wondered why Lucifer never sleeps in complete darkness. In his penthouse, the glow of the bar and the city provides faint illumination. At her house he sheepishly requested to plug in a nightlight. She knew it's not from a simple childish fear but she gave him what he desired without asking. And then one night, locked in the throes of passion, they forgot to plug it in. That night, he woke up terrified, pinning her to the bed with a hand in the middle of her chest and a feral subsonic growl reverberating in her skull.

For a moment, there was no recognition in his hellfire eyes, the only light in the room. For a moment, as her chest struggled to rise against his large palm splayed across it, she feared for her safety with him. Then he blinked, his wings springing forth and casting them in faint white light. First recognition dawned, the pressure on her chest disappearing instantly, then the hellfire intensifies with the depth of his shame as she greedily drew deep gasping breaths as the pressure left her chest. But she only gave herself a second before attaching to him, clinging like a limpet to prevent him from teleporting away, as she can so clearly see him considering. _Then_ she asked.

"What the hell was that, Lucifer?" She breathed, knowing that it's the wrong question but unable to come up with a better one. She recognized PTSD when it pinned her to the bed and almost crushes her. She just hadn't expected it from him. He almost doesn't answer but decided that he owed her an explanation, as an apology if nothing else.

"An apt question," Detective, he whispered, even that shaky. "And an answer all in one. I … I can't remember darkness. Not before Hell. I … we ... Celestials come into being fully formed and fully functional. In the beginning I was much as I am now. And moments after my creation I was tasked with making light.

"You know, let there be light, and all of that," Lucifer laughed bitterly. "I can't … there was never … I don't remember darkness. Not before Hell. Even before I made the stars, it wasn't _truly_ dark. It's kind of hard to have true darkness when the bloody things glow." The last was said with a glare at his wings which were glowing brightly and giving away the fine shudders she could feel with the rustle of feathers. 

"If they glow then …"

"The _feathers_ glow, Chloe," Lucifer said sadly, the words wet. "I … when I _fell_ , my wings were mangled. My body broken in ways I didn’t yet know were possible even before I was cast out. Pierced and shattered and bound. I had no way to slow my descent and skin, _feathers_ , they stood no chance against the forces of falling through realms. I…I landed in a seared heap on the baren plains of Hell.

"I… eventually I set my own bones, lay there alone in the dark until they healed enough to bear weight. I don't know how long that took. Time moved oddly. I don’t think I was conscious for all of it. Setting bones, rebreaking poorly healed ones, it hurts. Unconsciousness was a blessing. I _do_ know that I was able to make a star before I was well enough to regrow feathers," he said, shrugging as if it didn't matter when it couldn't be further from the truth. "The light was wrong but it wasn't _dark_. I don't like the dark." The last was said as if he were admitting a great sin and it broke her heart. In that moment she decided that he'd never experience darkness again as long as she lived.

"Then we won't have it," she said firmly. "I'll make sure you always have a light." He smiled down at her sadly, knowing that it is a promise she couldn't keep. She thought that he was being pessimistic. Turns out that fate just likes to prove her wrong. 

* * *

Of course they _had_ to investigate a murder in an abandoned mine. Of _course_ it had to be unstable. And of course someone had known it and jerry-rigged a solution using blocks and rebar. And of course that didn't hold when the perp, who had returned to the scene (because of course he had) shoved Chloe in an attempt to escape and was then shoved by Lucifer into the retaining wall, triggering a cave in. And now they were trapped. Lucifer couldn't just teleport them out because he was unconscious and impaled through the outer thigh (which Ella assured her was a non-fatal injury) with rebar driven into the floor of the mine by the force of the collapse and trailing into the rock fall. Lovely.

Add to that that neither she nor Ella had cell service and neither of them had even a quarter of a battery to provide light. She doubted Lucifer's was much better given the amount of cell games he'd been playing on the ride up. As if hearing her think of him, he stirred moaning as he attempted to stretch and moved his leg. Realizing he was restrained, he swore and pulled against it with one hand causing the rockfall to groan precariously. It didn’t deter him. In fact, his movements became even more frantic. 

“Ella, shine the light here!” Chloe snapped before switching to a soothing tone and creeping towards him trying not to startle him when he was already clearly panicking.

"Hey, hey, hey," Chloe said trying to get his attention as she crawled towards him, stoppingjust out of arms reach. "Don't do that, sweetie. It's not stable and even shifting it to pull that cable out could kill us all." He looked at her, hellfire irises roiling with the bald panic on his face and his chest heaving. She knew it wasn’t exertion, or even a need to breath but just a reflex born of fear.

“It’s okay, Lucifer,” she promised, trying to keep her voice level and calm, pushing aside the similarities of talking down an armed suspect. “You need to stay calm. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” He swallowed heavily, eyes still darting about like an animal trying to escape a trap before cementing to her own. She smiled at him, seeing the moment he actually focused on her and scooting forward a bit more.

"Hi," she said, keeping her tone soft.

"Chloe?" He panted, still breathing too rapidly for her taste but calm enough that she moved to his side and took his hand in hers, not missing the fine shudder. "What happened? Why am I .. where’s Miss Lopez?"

“I’m fine,” Ella promised. “Just peachy. As for what happened, you two really do have the worst luck. I can’t think of any other partnership that involves so many on the job incidents. At least once a month one of you gets shot, stabbed, almost blown up. Usually you, Lucifer. What did you do to piss off fate?”

“You mean Dad?” Lucifer said with a bitter laugh. “I would think you would know that answer, Miss Lopez. Aren’t you religious? It seems He wasn’t content to throw me out, He also wants to watch me suffer. Bloody sadist.” 

“Right …. I keep forgetting that you are literally God Damned,” Ella said, shaking her head and shrugging. “With that in mind you actually have pretty good luck, Luce...ifer.” She smiled sadly as Chloe shot her an incredulous glare and Lucifer barked a laugh. 

“I just wish that my luck involved me getting penetrated in _fun_ ways,” he said, glaring down at his thigh. His breathing coming heavier at the reminder that he was restrained and incapable of escape without potentially killing them all. He glanced up at a hand on his face, seeing Chloe’s blue eyes. For the first time, they didn’t make him feel better. They were trapped, likely to die and he couldn’t save anyone, not even her. His lungs burned with the need to draw in more air that wasn’t there. 

“Breathe, sweetie,” she was whispering, cradling his face between both of her hands and trying to hold his gaze as it began to dart again. “Just breathe with me. In and out. Nice and slow. This isn’t Hell. This isn’t The Fall. You are restrained but it’s not infernal or celestial steel. It’s _just_ rebar. I’ve seen you snap rebar before. We’ll figure out how to let you do it without pulling on the rock fall and then you can free from that and then you can get us out.”

“He can snap rebar?” Ella breathed, not aware that Lucifer was _that_ strong. Chloe shot her a look that clearly said _shut up_ and Ella mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key. The Devil was still pressing into Chloe’s hands and panting like he’d run a marathon, but whatever she was doing seemed to be working and he really was their best hope of getting out of there alive. 

“That’s it,” Chloe praised, keeping her voice level and stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “That’s right. We’re okay. We’re all okay. I’ve got light. What else can I do to help you until we think of a plan.” 

“You’re doing it,” he whispered. “I … keep reminding me where we are. I … I don’t like being bound, Chloe."

"You've never complained before," she countered, trying to distract him with sex. "In face, you've asked me to do it. And it seemed like you enjoyed it."

"I wasn't really bound," he replied. "No knots or locks made on Earth can hold me. I wasn't trapped. Helpless.” She wondered suddenly if his trick with locks and knots was more of his celestial self-actualization; he didn't want to be bound and so he gave himself the power to never be bound. It was an interesting thought but she pushed it aside because this was neither the time or the place and turned her mind back to soothing the Devil.

“You may be pinned, but you’re far from helpless,” she reminded him. “I’d take you pinned to the ground by your thigh over me and Ella in a fight and that’s without you calling on the fires of Hell and creation.” it had the effect that she wanted and he laughed before cutting off in a soft groan as the movement pulled at the wound in his leg.

“Don’t make me laugh, darling,” he chided without any real heat. “It hurts to laugh. Though the fire does give me an idea. If I were to melt the rebar between me and the rocks, I would be able to lift my leg off the piece embedded in the rock and fly us out.”

“I don’t know that you can do that, Lucifer,” Chloe argued, worried about what the heat would do to him not about if he could call forth the necessary flames.

“Yeah, man,” Ella added when he looked like he was going to argue. “Even if you can summon the hellfire, which, totally badass, by the way, rebar is a pretty good conductor of heat but it doesn’t melt until like 1300-1500 degrees Fahrenheit. That amount of heat, it … it’d cook that hole in your leg, like sear through flesh and bone hot. Not to mention, it’ll hurt like Hell.” 

“I am not unfamiliar with pain, Miss Lopez,” Lucifer deadpanned. “Or self-inflicted pain. I think I should try. How much time do we have?”

“Before we run out of air or light?” Ella asked. “Because I don’t know about the air, but I’ve got _maybe_ two minutes left on my phone even on dim. Chloe?”

“Maybe one?” she replied. “I was down to one bar when we headed down and I need to replace the battery soon. That one bar doesn’t last long. Lucifer?”

“Mine’s in the car,” he said. “Didn’t want to risk getting a distracting phone call. I could, that is, if Miss Lopez doesn’t mind … I could…”

“Do you mind if Lucifer brings out his wings for light?” Chloe asked, turning to Ella to translate for the awkward Devil. She didn’t miss the look of contentment that crossed Ella’s face at the suggestion.

“I could do with a dose of valium right now,” Ella agreed. Lucifer chuckled before unfurling just the left one and tucking it tight to his back. Chloe watched the tech scoot closer before closing her eyes and inhaling deeply before exhaling and visibly relaxing. She found herself wishing for the first time that she wasn’t immune to Lucifer’s divinity. She could do with some relaxation herself at the moment. 

“Doesn’t work on me either, Darling,” Lucifer said sadly before taking a deep breath and laying his right hand on the rebar closest to the rockfall. He jumped slightly and Chloe worried that he’d hurt himself but he just glanced at his wing, where Ella was currently nuzzling her cheek, with a look of fond exasperation before it was replaced by one of intense concentration and a third source of light filled the tunnel as blue-white fire flared to life in his palm, the rebar beginning to glow a deep red almost instantly. The red began slowly spreading away from the point of heat, where it was glowing orange. Lucifer grimaced, his left hand digging into the rock of the floor leaving grooves as the red spread closer to his thigh while the orange shifted to a blinding yellow-white. He was now breathing heavily through his teeth, the hand controlling the fire twitching with the need to stop, the smell of searing flesh turning Chloe’s stomach but rather than stop, he turned up the heat. 

“Stop,” Ella said suddenly, the smell of burnt flesh breaking through the effects of the feathers. “Stop, Lucifer. That’s enough. You have to stop.”

“Almost there,” he ground out.

“Stop,” Ella said more firmly. “Chloe!”

“Lucifer, please,” Chloe breathed, pressing a hand to his arm. With a sigh, he stopped the blue-white flame disappearing instantly, his hand dropping back to the floor and a shuddering breath leaving his throat. The rebar was still intact, but it did have a bit of a dip in it, still glowing brightly with the heat he had put into it. 

“I almost had it, Miss Lopez,” Lucifer said tiredly. “Just a few more moments--”

“And you’d’ve cooked your leg,” Ella snapped before standing up and picking up a small rock that was separate from the main fall. “This may hurt but I think it will work.” With no more warning than that, she struck the rebar. It did hurt, the vibrations traveling down the metal through his leg and breaking seared flesh open, but it also bent the rebar further. 

“Again, Miss Lopez,” Lucifer demanded. She nodded and hit it again. It was less effective this time, but still the bar bent further. 

“Maybe a bit more heat?” Chloe suggested. Lucifer cast her an amused glance before shaking his head muttering “didn’t know you had a sadistic streak, Detective.” She smacked his arm and he grinned before waving Ella back and summoning fire once more. As soon as the metal was once more yellow-white, he stopped nodding for her to strike again. On the first blow, the two pieces broke apart and he was free from the rock fall, though still impailled. He reached for the bar to straighten it out before thinking better of it. He stopped at the heat wafting from it reached his palm and waving Chloe back, he brought his wing around him and gently fanning the superheated metal to cool it. When it was no longer glowing, he grabbed it--ignoring both women’s stuttered protests--and bent it into a better handle. Taking a fortifying breath and hoping he was up to it with just upper body strength, he slid his hand into the loop he’d created and pulled. At first it didn’t move and he feared he wouldn’t have the leverage necessary to pull it from the ground below, leading to much less desirable ways of removing it. Then, with a groan and a shriek, it began to move bit by bit from the rock under his leg. Without warning, it came free from the rock and without the resistance slid free from his leg with a jerk, drawing a pained gasp from his throat. He climbed to his feet and paced, enjoying the freedom of movement even as his thigh burned from the pull of seared flesh moving. 

"Ready to go, ladies?" he asked offering them each a hand. Chloe took it, easily burrowing into his side and wrapping him in a hug. Ella reached for it but he pulled it back slightly.

"Are we still good, Miss Lopez?" He asked softly. "Seeing fire, it's a bit different than seeing my wings."

"If seeing giant white wings sprouting out of your back didn't scare me off, no amount of fire, in your hands or eyes, is going to do it," she replied. "I got it the first time. You're the Devil. I still say you got a bad rap." This time it was Lucifer who pulled her in for a hug, planting a quick peck to the tip of her nose.

"And you, Ella, are bloody brilliant," he muttered before teleporting them back to the car, supporting both women while they blinked and looked unsteady. 

"Yeah," Chloe breathed. "Never getting used to that." Lucifer smiled at her fondly before turning to Ella who was standing there with a mix of wonder and shock on her face. 

"Are you alright, darling?" Lucifer asked, concern for the mortal woman making him uncomfortable. She blinked again before letting out a huffy of air.

"Am I alright?!" she shrieked, her voice shooting through multiple octaves. "You said 'fly' but we … we teleported. How does it work? Is it interdimensional or were we reduced to atoms and resembled or..." she trailed off, looking at him expectantly 

"I don't actually know," Lucifer said softly. "I _am_ capable of interdimensional travel, hence the going and coming from Hell. But I don't believe that we crossed dimensional boundaries. Nor do I think I atomized us. I just willed us here and here we are. I wish I could explain it better for you Miss--Ella but that is all I know." She nodded before chewing her lip and shifting her weight.

"Ask," he said, nodding encouragingly.

"If you can do interdimensional, what about intergalactic?" She asked, her eyes flooding with delight once more. 

"Well, I think we'd best _sit_ for the remainder of this conversation," he said gesturing to the rear driver side door that he opened for her. Ella rolled her eyes certain that he was being melodramatic but sat all the same, closing the door and waiting for him to sit in the front passenger seat before raising her eyebrows to prompt him to spill. 

"I _made_ the stars, Ella," he said simply. "Traveling to them is child's play." Suddenly there wasn't enough air and she was glad that he'd made her sit. 

"Uh," was the only sound that she could make for a bit. The way his face fell and a sad smile took the place of what had been a fairly neutral expression knocked the air back into her chest.

"You _made_ them? _All_ of them? Like all the _billions_ of them?!" She was pleased when an almost proud smile crossed his face, his eyes soft with the memory and he nodded. It looked like he was going to say more but Chloe slid into the driver's seat sighing. 

"I called in the cave in," she told them. "I just didn't tell them which side of it we were on when it happened." She looked between them taking in Ella's awestruck expression and Lucifer's almost bashful one and laughed. 

"Am I interrupting Ella becoming a satanist?" Chloe asked. 

"Of course not!" Ella said as Lucifer scoffed and said, "Oh, love, you know worship is more Dad's bag. Besides, of the groups that _claim_ to worship me, the Luciferians are the ones I like best. All about free will with no biblical hangups. No sacrifices either. Anyway, there are too many negative associations with the satanists."

"Right," Chloe said slowly. "And that has nothing to do with them using your preferred name." He shrugged and she gave him a knowing smile before backing out of the spot where she'd parked and making her way down the derelict road. When no one said anything, Lucifer alternately fiddling with his ring and cufflinks, she decided to break the silence.

"So, what were you all talking about when I got in?" 

"Stars," Lucifer replied. Chloe nodded, suddenly understanding the awe she'd seen. Even having known a while it was still astounding that the being beside her was both so ancient and so powerful. Especially when he looked up at her with an absolutely boyish grin, fingering the hole in his leg. She prepared herself for a penetration joke but it didn't come. Instead he asked a question.

"Do you think this might scar? My wings did. And that was infernal steel but we did have to burn it closed with hellfire. And this one was burned by hellfire. Do you think it'll scar?" he asked, something she couldn't name in his tone that might have been hope, concern, excitement or a mix of all three.

"Only if you want it to," she sighed, trying _not_ to think about the scene he'd just described and failing. As the sun sank below the horizon, she laughed slightly as he leaned the seat back and looked up at the stars out the rear window. The glances she stole at his face when she felt it safe to look away from the curving road showed an odd mix of serenity and pride. 

"I did do well with them, didn't I?" he muttered eventually. 

"You did," she agreed, Ella still lost in thought behind her. "They're beautiful. Just like their creator." He beamed at her and went back to staring out the window. A flicker of light beside her caught her attention and she almost missed a curve in the road. His fingers were dancing, as they so often did to melodies only he could hear, but rather than music, between his hands spun a miniature galaxy. Thousands a tiny stars, moving in the currents of his twitching fingers. Ella gasped and Lucifer shot upright, the galaxy vanishing into nothing. 

"What happened?" he asked, sharp eyes roaming for danger.

"You. . .you. . .you made a galaxy. Here. In the car," Ella stuttered. "Like a whole galaxy, tons of teny tiny stars. In your hands."

"Impossible, Miss Lopez," Lucifer said, his voice tight with an unshared emotion. "I can no longer make stars, let alone galaxies. I lost that ability in the fall. My Father took it from me."

"But--"

"You're wrong," Lucifer said, turning away from her and resuming his staring out the window. Ella caught Chloe's eye in the rearview and Chloe nodded, indicating that she'd seen it too. If only Lucifer realized that it wasn't his Father that had blocked that ability but himself, then he'd never want for light again. She hoped she could convince him. After all, she wouldn't mind seeing that again. Those tiny lights had been almost as beautiful as the Devil who'd created them


	13. M is for Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had always thought that Lucifer's apparent immaturity and exuberance for everything was his personality and that the serious creature she caught occasional glimpses of was the anomaly. As she spends more time with him alone, she realizes that his "usual" personality is the mask. And sometimes, he gets tired of wearing it.

She had always thought that Lucifer's apparent immaturity and exuberance for everything was his personality and that the serious creature she caught occasional glimpses of was the anomaly. As she spends more time with him alone, she realizes that his "usual" personality is the mask. And sometimes, he gets tired of wearing it. This was one of those times. 

Their current case had hit Lucifer hardn understandably so. A young man had been found murdered, his body bound to a cross in a pentagram with odd symbols carved into his skin. As they'd rounded the corner to the scene, the crude comment he was making died in his throat. Lucifer’s face had gone blank as he studied the scene, his eyes hard. Ella had looked up at their arrival, rattling off what she knew before turning to what she didn't.

“So, what do you think, Lucifer?” Ella asked softly, reading him well enough to know that he wouldn’t welcome touch. “Satanists? Voodoo?”

“And why would I know?” he snapped, his eyes flashing as he glared at her. “I don’t practice or condone either of them. And regardless of the _religion_ that sanctioned it, this isn’t worship. This is murder. And someone will pay. _Especially_ if it was done in my name.”

“They will. You know they will, even if we don't catch them. But you need to calm down,” Chloe assured him, placing a hand on his cheek to get his attention and gesturing at her eyes. He closed his, the red still seeping through the lids with the strength of his rage. She tried to hug him but may as well have been hugging a statue for all that he yielded. 

“We’ll catch them,” she whispered. “We usually do. We’ll get justice for him. Or you will when they pass on. They'll get what they deserve.” He relaxed a bit at that, his eyes opening to familiar brown with just a glint of hellfire at the edges. 

“They will. And we often do, don’t we?” he said softly, the hellfire vanishing entirely as his smile slotted back into place, unnatural and glaring.“Very well, partner, let’s catch the bad guys. Apologies for my temper, Ella. What do you have for us?” The last was said in a tone that was so forcedly bright it put Chloe instantly on edge, as did his quick smile and inappropriate innuendo. While not abnormal behavior, the switch from avenging devil to silly playboy was giving her whiplash.She listened as Ella gave them the rest of the scant details they had. No murder weapon, no single fatal wound, little trace evidence, the only thing they had was an ID: James Marshall. And that was only due to the killers not bothering to remove his wallet. 

“We’ll notify next of kin,” Chloe sighed, taking the address from Ella and leading Lucifer to the car. On the way he smiled, inquired as to the status of the family and pets of the officers on the scene, told jokes, offered lewd suggestions but as soon as they were alone, he seemed to deflate, sinking into the seat, his expressive hands dropping into his lap, face blank as he heaved a deep sigh. A dropping of the mask and pretense that everything was alright. 

“You okay?” Chloe asked, reaching for his hand and not missing when he twitched it away from her. She settled for his knee.

“No,” he said softly, not looking up from his shoes. “They … I … no.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Lucifer,” Chloe said softly, stroking his knee with her fingers. “You’ve never even met him. You always say that it’s not fair for humanity to blame all our sins and shortcomings on you, but you want to take the blame when things like this happen. You didn’t command it, you didn’t ask it and you don’t know anyone involved. It’s _not_ your fault.” He said nothing and she knew that it meant that he didn’t want to say she was wrong but couldn’t agree with her either. And she didn’t know how to convince him. 

* * *

James' apartment was lived in, but clearly a bachelor pad. Even so, the first thing that struck Chloe was the lack of pictures. There was some art, but no family. No friends. He lived alone. At the end of a complex. He was the perfect murder victim. If he hadn’t been found by a dock worker, there was no telling how long it would have been until someone missed him. They searched but there was nothing in the apartment to link him to another human being and with everything being electronic, there weren’t even paystubs to link him to an employer. They would have to wait until the tech team could give them a lead. 

They didn't have to wait long. But their first lead, his employer, was next to no help. James was a good worker. Very private. Came in, did his job and went home. He didn’t have any complaints against him. No enemies. No vices that his boss knew of. No friends. And then a hint.

“I do know that he was on the outs with his folks,” Liz said, after Lucifer got involved and asked her, “surely there is _something_ you can tell us that will be of help, Liz?” 

“On the outs?” Chloe asked and Liz lost the dazed expression she had had when looking at Lucifer and grew sad.

“Yeah, and a shame too,” she said softly. “He was a nice kid. But apparently they’re like hyper religious wack-jobs. Caught him looking _that way_ at a guy in one of his mom's magazine ads and kicked him out. They'd recently contacted him trying to reconcile. That's why I know. He asked for the time off and I gave it to him. This isn't my fault, is it?"

"No, darling," Lucifer was quick to reassure her. "The only ones at fault are the ones who killed the poor boy. You were trying to do right by him." She nodded but looked unconvinced. Lucifer sighed and grabbed her chin gently.

"I need you to look at me, Liz. There's a good girl," he praised when her brown eyes locked with his. "There we are. This was not your fault, Elisabeth. You _must_ believe that. You did not _desire_ this outcome and it was not your fault. Be at peace." Chloe watched as the tension melted from Liz and a contented smile spread across her face.

"It really wasn't, was it?" She asked quietly. "I just gave him the day off. I didn't kill him and I didn't want him dead. I will miss that kid, though. Catch whoever did this, yeah?"

"We'll do our best," Chloe promised. "Thank you for your time. Do you happen to have his parents' address?" She nodded and pulled a file from the cabinet behind her, writing an address on a paper and handing it over. 

When they left the office and got back to the car, as it had everytime they were alone since the case started, Lucifer's charming smile and open posture collapsed; a mask being set aside. Even more than the Devil face or hellfire eyes, the sheer _weariness_ radiating from him showed his unfathomable age. 

"You okay?" She asked as she had every time, wondering if this would be the time he'd do more than admit he wasn't. He hummed and looked at her with a sad smile.

"At least it's looking more likely that this was done by Dad's people than the ones who claim to follow me," he said with a small twitch of his lip that she figured was supposed to be a wider smile. "It seems that I'm not even peripherally to blame as it wasn't done in my name. It's a bit of a relief."

"So is that what triggered whatever that was back there? With Liz?" she asked, wondering if he'd answer. It was the first time she'd ever seen him _absolve_ someone of guilt. She hadn't even known her could fo that.

"Her guilt was quite profound, Chloe," he said sadly. "Enough to drag her down. She was fonder of him than she was admitting. It would have damned her for a crime she didn't commit. I couldn't just _leave_ her like that." Chloe nodded but had no response to that. 

"So, are we going to meet the parents?" Lucifer asked, a disturbingly predatory grin on his face.

"Yes," Chloe sighed, grabbing the change of subject. "Just remember, we don't know that they did it, Lucifer."

"They still kicked him out for wanting to be himself," Lucifer said flatly. "That should be crime."

"He was an adult," Chloe reasoned. "Though I do understand why that bothers you and will also understand if you want to sit out talking with them."

"Whyever would I do that?" He asked, looking affronted. "I am capable of shelving my own issues to seek justice for James." Chloe considered it a wonder that she managed to keep from snorting or scoffing. But if he believed he could handle it … with a sigh she plugged the address into the GPS and headed for the Marshall family home.

* * *

The Marshall's home was an exercise in perfection. Well manicured lawn full of green grass that must cost a fortune to keep watered, well edged and tended flower beds. There wasn't even a single weed in the rock walkway leading from the mailbox to the front door. The sheer perfection of it was offputting. Even Lucifer, as exacting and meticulous as he could be, seemed ill at ease. She nudged him with an elbow and raised an eyebrow.

"Reminds me of," he trailed off pointing skyward. "Unnatural levels of order and conditional love. They'll love the Silver City if they make it there. Fit right in."

"You don't _have_ to come," she reminded him. 

"I know. And if they did kill him you'll get a confession even without my abilities. Because you are brilliant, Love, but I want to be with you," he said but it lacked the depth his praise often held. Almost as if he was trying to convince himself rather than her. 

"Ok," she agreed, knocking on the door and introducing herself when Mrs. Marshall opened the door. She had to fight a smile as the woman started at Lucifer's name and gripped the silver cross around her neck. Though it looked like she wanted to bar him entry, they were quickly invited into a sitting room so ordered and pristine that Chloe almost couldn't bring herself to sit on the couch. Lucifer didn't sit, wandering the room looking at the various knickknacks and noticing that there were no pictures of James, though other children were pictured. Mr. Marshall joined them, sitting beside his wife and taking her hand. He too reacted poorly to her introducing her partner, glaring at the Devil who smiled cheekily and waved before continuing his exploration.

  
  


"What's this about?" Mr. Marshall asked, a bit defensively for someone with nothing to hide, though it also could have been his desire to get Lucifer out of their home making him short. 

"James," Lucifer offered from the bookshelf where they kept their pictures, "the son you disowned."

"We don't have a son by that name," he snapped at the same time his wife said, "What about him? I haven't seen him since … since we caught him … and he…"

"Since he came out as gay?" Chloe supplied, trying to calm the conversation before Lucifer and Mr. Marshall came to blows. 

"And you disowned him for wanting to be who he was?" Lucifer added.

"We didn't just write him off!" Mr. Marshall snapped. "We tried. He just … insisted there was nothing wrong with him. But we knew." Mrs. Marshall nodded, looking sad. 

"Knew what?" Chloe asked softly, trying to keep the judgement she could feel in her gut from her tone. It wouldn't do to have them laywer-up just because she offended them over their backwards views.

"That he was possessed," Mrs. Marshall replied with a sad smile. "Satan has his hooks in my little boy. Maybe one day soon he will find his way back to us. Back to God."

"Unlikely," Lucifer scoffed, stalking forward to sit by Chloe, radiating wrath and making her wish they weren't working so she could comfort him. She settled for placing a hand on his knee.

"What do you know of it?" Mr. Marshall demanded. "Going around calling yourself 'Lucifer' hardly makes you an authority on God or faith."

"Having met the manipulative bastard in person does, though," Lucifer replied, lounging on the sofa like he owned it. "I think you two would get along well."

"Get out!" Mr. Marshall said, rising to his feet. "You don't get to come into my home, insult my faith, criticize decisions you know nothing about and belittle me. Get out! "

"Please, there will be no further insults," Chloe said holding her hands out. "My partner is troubled by the news we have to give you. I'm sorry to tell you that James was murdered. We're investigating the crime." Mrs. Marshall's face crumbled but Mr. Marshall showed no sign that he hadn't already known. 

"You don't seem surprised," Chloe observed, looking at Mr. Marshall. 

"Detective, my son has been dead to me since he refused to repent," he said sadly. "I knew his choices would lead to his doom."

"Actually, that was a religious cult with a cross and a pentagram," Lucifer quipped.

"What?" Mrs. Marshall asked, going pale. Chloe hoped it was just the shock of his death rather than guilt that caused the change. Lucifer's shift in posture crushed that hope.

"Yes," Lucifer continued, smiling cruelly at her as he detected her guilt, "apparently, cause of death was dehydration. It looks like they tied him to the cross and tortured him for days until he succumbed in a failed ritual. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

She looked in panic from Lucifer, to her husband to Chloe before burying her face in her hands when none of them seemed sympathetic.

"Claire?" Mr. Marshall asked, scooting away from her. "What did you do?"

"I … I was reaching out for help," she said looking up at him in tears. "You refused to talk about it so it started out as trying to find someone to talk to. Then I looked for someone who could help. Chat rooms, forums. I knew that someone had to have a way to help James. I … I missed my son, Tom. But he had to be fixed before I could have him back." Tom nodded sadly and Lucifer growled, a rumble Chloe could feel in her chest but couldn't quite hear. She placed a hand on his, surprised to feel it quivering with repressed anger. Not knowing what else to do, she allowed her own rage and understanding of Lucifer's position to fill her mind and prayed. 

_Lucifer, please, stay calm. I know why you're upset and that they'll be yours to punish but right now they're mine. I need the information that they have to keep this from happening to anyone else. Don't break them. Not yet._

His hand flipped over and grasped hers and he nodded almost imperceptibly. She smiled at him before turning back to the couple on the couch.

"What happened next?" She asked.

"Someone contacted me," Claire said. "Said they could fix James. Some group with a Latin name. I can't remember it but it translated to "soldiers of God". I set up a meeting between them. Claimed he was meeting me. That was about a week and a half ago. But I figured it would take time to fix him. Oh, God! Are you sure he's dead?"

"Quite certain," Lucifer assured her. "You handed your son over to torture and death. All because he chose to not hide who he was from you. And you condemn him for it."

"I tried to _save_ him!" She snarled, rising to her feet and stalking towards the Devil. "I was worried for his soul!" He eyed the angry woman with boredom before he smirked. 

"But what of yours, hm?" Lucifer purred. "Being responsible for the death of your son, even at the hands of others … the guilt must be terrible. Do you think he called for you before the end? Did they tell him you gave him to them? Did he die wondering why his own mother couldn't love him? Ah, there it is."

"There what is?" Tom asked, not moving from his spot on the far couch even as Lucifer and his wife continued to try to stare the other down. 

"Guilt," Lucifer grinned, glancing around Claire to Tom. "She reaks of it. The guilt of what she did to your son is creeping through her. She's yours, Detective. For now." With that, he stood and walked from the house, leaving. Chloe rose and arrested Mrs. Marshall for the murder of her son. Surprisingly, Lucifer was waiting by the car, he'dbeenupset enough that Chloe halfway expected him to fly home. Mrs. Marshall grew agitated at the sight of him.

"Please, no," she said looking at Chloe. "I can't get in the same car as him. I think that man may actually be the Devil. There's something unnatural about him. Tom, please. Help me. I only did it because I thought it would help James! I only did it to save his soul. To bring him home. Help me!"

Tom did nothing, standing at the door to their perfect home with a look on his face that Chloe couldn't decipher.

"And then there were two," Lucifer whispered, waiting for Chloe to place the crying Claire in the back seat before climbing into the passenger seat. The two of them did not speak on the drive to the precinct, Chloe's hand a warm weight in his thigh, a reminder that despite the sobs and guilt emanating from the back seat, he was not in Hell. Still, he couldn't resist catching Claire's eye in the rearview and allowing hellfire to overtake the brown of his irises for a moment. The resulting scream of "he's the Devil" and prayers to his Father was worth it. Especially when Chloe gave a soft squeeze of his thigh and offered him a sad, knowing smile. 

* * *

Official confession taken, email chain lead to the cult given to the tech people and paperwork done--and wasn't it nice to not have to get _creative_ with the truth--they headed home. Lucifer drove himself that morning, but even so, Chloe wasn't surprised to see him standing beside her car.

"I … can I," he began.

"Get in," she smiled. She understood. He wasn't the only one who had drawn the parallels this time. She'd seen them too. She was glad that he wanted to come with her rather than wallow alone in pain and alcohol. It was growth. 

"What's the plan?" She asked as he settled himself into the seat, a sad contemplative expression on his face.

"Hm?" He asked. "What plan? There is no grand one, if that's what you're asking. Or at least not one I've ever been privy to. I mean, Dad never told me anything even before he threw me out and--" she cut him off with a hand on his cheek.

"I meant for dinner," Chloe sighed as he pressed into her hand, seeking comfort he'd long been denied as wounds older than time opened and bled anew. "But if that's what you want to talk about, I'll talk. Your Dad, he's a dick and an idiot. And if I ever see him, I may end up joining you as God damned because I fully intend to either shoot him or punch him in the face. The same goes for the rest of your family. Maybe even Amenadiel the next time I see him. What they did to you was unconscionable.

"You are wonderful, Lucifer, just the way you are," she continued. "You're not perfect, but no one is. You're still sometimes annoying, impulsive, crude, and you really make paperwork a pain in the ass when you go all celestial on people. But I would never, _am_ _never_ going to throw you away. If I didn't do it over Jimmy, it's not going to happen. They were idiots to cast you out. But you know what? As stupid as they were, I almost owe them because it brought you to me. And now you're stuck with me, my Devil. As long as you'll have me."

"You know that may be eternity, right?" Lucifer laughed, a wet, sad sound. "If it was in my power, I would keep you for eternity."

"Eternity doesn't sound that long," she said sadly, reminded again at the difference in their lifespans and the fact that he'd be alone when she died. It was unfair and cruel and just like something his dick of a Dad would do; make him a gift with a built-in expiration date just to give him a hint of love and rip it away. She idly wondered if she was a gift or a punishment.

"So, burgers? Chinese? Mexican? Or are we cooking?" He asked, feeling the shift in her mood and trying to get her to quit thinking about whatever was causing her such guilt. He wanted her for eternity, but not that way.

"I'd rather not cook," Chloe replied."other than that, you pick. Just not pizza."

"Mexican then," he said before launching into the story of a teenager he'd made a deal with who opened a restaurant between her home and the precinct that served the best mole poblano in town, "which the child will love because it's got chocolate in it" who had paid it forward by hiring people no one else wanted. As she listened, she wondered how many more of the people he made deals with he kept up with. 

* * *

Dinner eaten, they had just pulled out a deck of cards and put on a movie when there was a knock on the door. Maze was there, trying to convince Lucifer and Chloe to "make the game interesting" and wouldn't've knocked anyway. A quick glance around and a shrug from everyone, Trixie included, had Chloe rising and going to the door, Lucifer following cautiously behind and Maze spinning a knife threateningly from the kitchen table.

Reminding herself to request a peep hole, Chloe opened the door to see Dan standing there, unshaven but sober and looking mostly like himself. She was glad to see that he wasn't falling apart, Lucifer had mentioned that he'd looked pretty rough after running out on her during sex to see Linda. Seeing Dan had totally ruined the mood even more than her admitting she liked his eyes had. 

It had been about a week and he looked better than that but she was still surprised to see him. The last time he’d accepted her calls or responded to her texts, he’d threatened her. And then ghosted her and now he was just showing up on her door like none of it had happened. What did he want?

"Dan, what's up?" She asked, trying to keep her suspicion out of her voice as she leaned against the frame of the door, surreptitiously blocking him from coming in with her body while Lucifer made his way back to the kitchen to give them the illusion of privacy.

“Hi, Chlo,” he said offering her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “How are you?”

“Fine,” she said simply. “You?” 

“Better,” he sighed. “Sorry I was such a dick. I just … it was a lot. It’s still a lot and I’ve found that it’s better if I don’t think about it. About _him_. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It’s not your fault.” She smiled at that. Apologies from Dan were a rare thing, even when he was at fault.

“You’re right,” she said. “You were being a dick, but … I may have been out of line too. I shouldn’t have threatened you.”

“Truce?” he asked, extending his hand.

“Truce,” she agreed, taking it. “So, are you just here for a reconciliation or …”

“I was wondering if I could have my weekend with Trix,” he said with a shrug and a hope in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in some time when it came to his parental responsibilities. 

“Yeah, of course,” Chloe said instantly. “It’s your weekend. I was just keeping her until you felt up to it. I remember how shocked I was when I found out. Let me have her get a bag together. Does she need anything in particular?”

“Camping stuff,” Dan told her. “Hiking. That kind of thing. I’ve found that I find the woods peaceful right now. Though she might like a camping trip.” Chloe did smile at that. Trixie loved camping and it had been too long since they’d been. 

“I’ll get it,” Chloe said quickly. “I’d invite you in but … well, Lucifer’s here. And I don’t want to ruin your--”

“He’s here?!” Dan groaned, anger lighting in his blue eyes and the calm mask cracking. “What the fuck, Chloe! You're still seeing him? After I told you I didn't want him around Trixie?”

“You don’t get to judge me, Dan,” Chloe said softly. “Or him. Not when you don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand, Chloe!” Dan yelled, causing her to flinch. “He’s the fucking _Devil_! What in the hell are you thinking?!” Lucifer was there instantly, his hand in the small of her back, silently supporting her.

“Offspring, a bag. Go pack it,” Lucifer called over his shoulder, offering her a tight smile. Trixie nodded heading for her room with a slight expression of shock. She'd seen them fight, but her Dad had never yelled at her Mom like that. 

“Mazikeen, assist her. Ensure she has what she needs. Camping things, boots, socks, warm clothes, light clothes, more is better than less, I think,” he added. Maze grumbled at being sent away, but didn’t argue. She didn’t like the way that the Douche was talking to Decker and would hate to have to gut the kid’s father in front of her. 

“Maze is here too?! What the fuck, Chloe?! I thought I told you that I didn’t want them around Trixie? ” Dan demanded.

“And I made it clear that you don’t get a vote!” Chloe snapped.”Maze lives her and Lucifer and I are _partners._ What I do with my life, Daniel, is none of your business. You _chose_ to make it none of your business. Just like you choose to only take her when it's _convenient_ for you. You--”

“Let’s take this outside,” Lucifer cut in, gently pushing Chloe out the door and closing it behind him, Dan almost falling in his haste to get out of Lucifer’s path. “It is not good for her for you to fight in front of the spawn.” 

“She’s not a _spawn_ , Lucifer. She’s a child. _My_ child and just what the hell do _you_ know about what's good for children?" Dan snapped, before paleing as he realized he’d just yelled at the Devil. Was he about to be smited? Smote? Smitten? But Lucifer was calm, sad almost.

“About this part of it? More than you could possibly understand,” Lucifer said cryptically. “And I am certain that she doesn’t need to hear her parents fighting over her. Arguing about whether one of them wants her. Trust me on that. I’ve seen what that guilt can do to people.” His eyes took on a haunted expression and Chloe felt nauseated at the implication. Hearing her and Dan fight, Trixie could blame herself and damn herself to Hell. And she'd been the one to bring up if Dan wanted her. Oh …. what if she was the reason Trixie ended up in hell.

“It won’t happen, Love,” Lucifer promised, stroking her cheek, knowing without her speaking where her mind had gone. “Azrael owes me a favor or two. Beatrice will not end up in Hell.”

“I thought you said that you didn’t decide that,” Dan demanded, trying to catch the Prince of Lies in a lie.

“I don’t. You lot decide for yourselves who goes, but I’ll be damned again if I don’t call in every favor I have to keep the child or Chloe from Hell,” Lucifer said, his eyes sparking with fire that caused Dan to step back, falling from the porch to his ass. Dan watched in horror as Chloe smiled at him, undeterred by the fire and leaned into the hand that stroked her face. He scrambled to his feet as he heard the handle jiggle and was dusting himself off when Trixie came out of the house carrying a backpack that was almost as big as she was. 

"Bye, Mom, Lucifer," Trixie called, pausing to hug each of them, Chloe bending down and giving her a squeeze and Lucifer patting her head awkwardly with a small smile.

“Be safe and have fun, Monkey,” Chloe said ruffling her already tousled hair. “Be good for Daddy.” Trixie rolled her eyes and waved to Maze, who was leaning against the door. 

“If anything tries to eat you, gut it,” Maze offered. Trixie nodded as if Maze had just given her the best advice ever. Dan rolled his eyes. Who told a child to gut something? _A demon_ , his mind answered, sounding suspiciously like Lisa. 

“Enjoy your trip, Child,” Lucifer said warmly, his expression so soft Dan was taken aback. Lucifer hated children. Didn't he? “And, Daniel, I hope nature brings you the peace you are searching for.” 

“Whatever, Man,” Dan rolled his eyes and took Trix’s hand, leading her to his car. As he looked back, he could have sworn that he saw the right side of Maze’s face flicker to something rotten before returning to smooth, but it was gone before he was sure. Even so, he hurried down the path and away from the Devil and his whore and his right hand demon.

As he drove, he listened to Trix chat, talking about school and Maze and Lucifer and Chloe. They stopped by his house before heading out, grabbing his things. Before they left, he smiled at his daughter, the most precious thing in the world. That was one thing he and Lucifer agreed on (though it was probably a lie on Lucifer's side, why would the devil want to keep anyone from hell?), Trixie must be kept from hell. At all cost.

“Hey, baby, let’s do this the old fashioned way,” he suggested. “No technology. I’ve got my phone in case of an emergency. But let’s leave your ipod and phone here, okay? Really get to enjoy nature.” Trixie agreed reluctantly and placed her electronics on his table before taking his hand and letting him lead her back to the car. As he drove off, he wondered just how far they could get before Chloe had the Devil on his tail. 


	14. N is for Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This had to be a nightmare. There was no other explanation that Chloe was willing to accept. The pity, rage and concern waring for dominance in Lucifer's eyes and the delicate way that he holds her, almost as if she'll breaks, cements it. Dan has kidnapped their daughter. Trixie is gone.

Dan drove well into the night before stopping to get a motel. Trixie had asked a few questions when they hadn't headed into the forest but he was able to reassure her that everything was fine. Even when they stopped, she didn't comment, too excited that they had cable and a pool. 

The next morning, she asked just where they were going camping and he told her he had some friends with a cabin in the mountains. Taking a page from Lucifer's book and deceiving without overtly lying. He had a friend with a mountain cabin, but that wasn't where they were going. She didn't ask anything else until the sun started dipping low.

"If we don't head back soon, we won't make it home by Monday," she reminded him. "I'm supposed to go back to school on Monday."

"Remember that vacation you and your mom went on? Mom and I agreed it's our turn," he said, smiling widely. "Haven't you always said you'd love to meet the _familia_ in Mexico?" Trixie nodded enthusiastically. She had always wanted to go to Mexico. That was the last question she asked other than "are we there yet?"

* * *

"What the hell do you mean 'she didn't come to school today?'" Chloe snapped into the phone. "No, she's not at home! Yes, I'm sure. I have to drive her. She was with Dan last weekend. Can you make sure that it's not a computer glitch? Thank you. Call me back? Bye."

"Dan forgot to take the urchin to school?" Lucifer deduced. "They probably just overslept. I hear that camping and hiking and such can be quite exhausting for mortals. I'm sure it's doubly true for spawn."

"Yeah," Chloe agreed, trying first Dan and then Trixie's phones, both going straight to voicemail. Lucifer then tried, suggesting that they were call screening due to embarrassment from oversleeping. He had no better luck. 

"The batteries probably died, love, and they forgot to turn them on after they charged," Lucifer said, fidgeting with her pen cup, the nervous energy betraying his discomfort with the incommunicado act.

"Yeah," she agreed, something in her gut screaming that something didn't fit. "Maybe we should run by his place? It's probably nothing but …" she tried to pull her keys from her desk, but her hands were shaking badly enough that she dropped them twice before getting a good grip on them.

"I'll drive," he offered, standing in one fluid motion and making it halfway up the stairs before she was around her desk. He didn't stop, moving just a bit too fast to be human. When she reached his car, he was standing there taping his foot impatiently. 

"Come on, Detective, get in," he said, pulling her door open and nearly shutting her foot in as she sat down.

"Lucifer!" She snapped as he hopped over his own door in his haste. "Please. I-I'm already worried enough. I … I know that you care about her, but I'm barely holding it together right now. I can't deal with you panicking too."

"Of course, love. Apologies, I will endeavor to remain a pillar of calm," he soothed, pausing to stroke her hair and her cheek. She closed her eyes leaning into the touch and wishing his fingers weren't quivering almost as badly as her own.

"Besides," she whispered after a moment, "I'm sure everything is alright." His silence as he peeled out of the parking lot was telling. 

* * *

It was not, in fact, alright. After five minutes of pounding on his apartment door, Lucifer had sworn and grabbed her. The next she knew they were inside Dan's apartment. Dan's _very_ empty apartment. A glance at the table showed Trixie's cellphone and ipod. A quick trip into the bedroom showed Dan's phone on the nightstand. All of his toiletries, most of his clothes and all his important documents were gone, the safe in his closet left wide open. 

"Tell me this isn't what it looks like?" She pleaded, feeling like there wasn't enough air in the room, her heart fluttering against her ribcage. There had to be another explanation. Maybe it was a nightmare. This had to be a nightmare. There was no other explanation that Chloe was willing to accept. The pity, rage and concern waring for dominance in Lucifer's eyes and the delicate way that he reached for her, holding her against him almost as if she'll break, cements it. Dan has kidnapped their daughter. Trixie is gone. 

She hears whimpering sobs and is surprised to realize that they're coming from her. Her phone is ringing but she can't bring herself to answer it. Lucifer reaches slowly into her pocket, removing it and checking the screen. She stops her sobs, but can't bring herself to reach for the phone, not trusting her voice. 

"It's the school," he whispers, holding it out to her. She shakes her head, not trusting herself not to scream if she tries to speak. She gestures for him to answer it and he nods, swallowing heavily before pressing the green circle.

"Chloe Decker's phone, Lucifer Morningstar speaking," he says, his voice giving no hint to the turmoil on their end of the line. "Have you news of the child?" She can't hear the answer, but it can't be good. His eyes close, his shoulders curling in and she swears she hears the shudder of tears in his sigh.

"I see," he says, and there is definitely distress there, "thank you Shelley, I'll let her know." He hangs up, looking at her with eyes full of slow roiling dark red flames. "Beatrice did not arrive at school today," he says, the words slow, precise, devoid of emotion.

"No," she whispers, incapable of more volume. She drops to her knees in Dan's carpet, as if that can make her pleas to the universe, and, yes, Lucifer's Father, stronger. But she doesn't wake up. Trixie doesn't materialize. This is real. Maybe she's died and this is hell. It _feels_ like hell. The sound that leaves her throat, tearing it on the way up, doesn't even sound human.

She hears Lucifer call the precinct and ask for assistance. But there's not enough air. She can't breathe. Can't think. The room is dimming around the edges And then Lucifer is there, bent down, forehead touching hers and hellfire eyes boring into hers. His hands, impossibly warm, gripping either side of her face almost too tightly. Grounding her to the present. To him, when she is adrift in a sea of misery. Now certain that she has died and gone to hell. Her threats of harm against God and His Angels damning her in the absence of guilt. Better that than that her daughter had been kidnapped.

"Breathe with me," he commands, counting her through it as she once had him. It helps, his soft, steady voice issuing commands that she is, for once, more than willing to follow. It's easier than trying to think herself. Because, Oh God! Maybe this isn't hell. He shouldn't be comforting her if she's in hell.

"I've got you, Chloe. And I _will_ get her back," he whispers, his eyes still locked on hers, willing her to believe him. His breath, smelling of whiskey, wafting across her lips. A comforting familiar smell when mixed with his cologne and that underscent that is unique to him. And she almost believes him, the fallen angel who never lies but how can it ever be okay when ...

"H-he took her," she managed. "He threatened it but … I never thought he'd. Oh, God!" She dissolved into sobs again and it was a mark of how upset Lucifer was by it as well that he didn't even flinch at the mention of his Father. 

"I swear to you, Chloe," he said, the rumble of hell in his words resonating in her chest, "I _will_ return your daughter to you. No matter what it takes." Despite it all, she couldn't help but relax, her panic fading behind certainty that even though it wasn't alright, he would make it be. Dan may have stolen Trixie, but she had no doubt that Lucifer _would_ get her back. God himself wouldn't be able to stop him. Not after he'd promised. Lucifer always kept his promises. Despite her fear, worry and anger over what Dan had done, she was no longer hysterical. She was absolutely certain that Trixie _would_ be returned to her. After all, Lucifer swore it and Lucifer never lied.


	15. O is for operation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's nothing further that the law can do, Love," he said with more than an edge of malice. "But as we've established, I am not bound by the constraints of human law. I've waited, as you requested, and given the proper channels their chance and they've failed. By your leave, Mazikeen and I shall retrieve the Child. By any means I deem necessary." 
> 
> And damn her to hell, Chloe loved the sound of that. The promise of violence, of retribution, of everything her very soul cried out for. And Lucifer, he didn't move, barely breathed as he waited, the Devil himself, for her permission to unleash Hell on Dan. And damn her to the pit, she gave it. A single nod and a whispered, "bring her home," and he was in motion. His phone was in his hand instantly.

"What the bloody hell do you mean 'there's really nothing more that you can do for us'?" Lucifer snarled glaring at the FBI agent that dared to deliver that particular bit of news. It was only Chloe’s soft hand on his wrist that kept him from leaping to his feet to tower over the imbecile, he barely restrained the hellfire in his soul from overtaking his gaze. To his credit, the man only paled slightly and didn't recoil, holding his position across from them with an impassive expression. The devil was grudgingly impressed; Lucifer had seen demons with less spine.

"Just that, Mr. Morningstar," the agent, whose name Lucifer hadn't bothered to get or remember, said, shrugging sadly. "They've crossed international lines. They're somewhere in Mexico and it's out of my jurisdiction. There is nothing further the United States can do to recover your daughter. We have reached out to our counterpart in Mexico and are going to have to rely on the _federales_ to find them now."

"Fat lot of good those corrupt bastards are going to do!" Lucifer snapped, moving to pace but stopped by the death grip Chole now had on his hand. He turned towards her, seeing the horror in her eyes, eyes so deeply seated from lack of sleep that she nearly looked dead. It broke his heart. And his anger wasn't helping. He had to offer her some hope. After all, Trixie was unharmed, they could still recover her. Daniel may be a douche and an idiot but he would harm his child. And Lucifer had to believe that. It was the only reason he'd been willing to give the FBI their chance. Which they'd blown. But comfort before rage.

"It’s not hopeless, Love,” he promised stroking her cheek, wishing that he was worthy of the love and trust that she exuded as she leaned into the touch. “I can buy them off … they do tend to come rather cheaply and I'm beyond certain that I can outbid Daniel. Even if the douche thought to pay the officials. Or perhaps--"

"Whatever you do, Mr. Morningstar, I wish you and Detective Decker the best of luck," Mr. FBI-guy said softly, cutting off what he was fairly certain was about to be an illegal plan, offering Lucifer a weary glance and Chloe a sad smile and leaving before he could overhear something he shouldn’t. Chloe looked at him, her lip quivering as she tried to hold back tears, though they both knew that she had no chance, exhausted and wrung out as she was. 

It had been a week since Trixie and Dan had gone missing. A week during which she had slept little, despite being unable to work any cases or get any information from anyone, though she wasn't a suspect. It was clear to everyone that Dan had pulled a runner, his car swapped out in Nevada for an older model with no GPS or onstar, his phone and anything that could have tracked him or Trixie abandoned, his savings account and checking account cleared out in $300 increments from various branches and ATMs to avoid suspicion. No one thought that this hadn’t been a premeditated kidnapping. But even with the full force of the police and FBI investigating, there had been next to no sign of them. 

The only way they'd known where he and Trixie were was that he'd crossed into Mexico at an actual checkpoint and there was a hit on their passports. Which Chloe was kicking herself for allowing him to keep when they'd divorced at his logic that he was the only one that might take her out of the country. It was true, and hadn’t raised suspicion, since there hadn’t been a threat. But even after he had threatened to take her, it hadn’t occurred to her that he would, her retaliatory threat seeming enough.

And as she’d told him, it wasn’t a threat; it had been a promise. During the investigation, all of Dan’s shady dealings had come to light and he was wanted for more than just kidnapping. But none of that mattered if they couldn’t _find_ him. Or Trixie.

"I will get her back, Darling," Lucifer whispered, cradling her as he had done for most of the last week. Her single anchor in a sea of despair. Only this time, rather than feel comforted, she felt rage. He'd been saying that for a week with nothing to show for it; how could he still claim that he could get her back. Everyone knew that the first forty-eight hours were the most important and they were long gone and now Trixie was lost somewhere in Mexico. 

"How?" She demanded pushing back and glaring at him barely resisting the urge to hit him, some part of her realizing that it wasn't his fault and wouldn't make her feel better.

"How do you plan to do that, Lucifer?!" She snapped, shooting to her feet to glare and pace. "They just told us that there's nothing more they can do. She's gone. And … and …" she trailed off, unable to voice the possibility that she might never see her daughter again. But Lucifer heard it and it shattered his heart, releasing something cold and calculating and cruel. 

"There's nothing further that the _law_ can do, Love," he said with more than an edge of malice. "But as we've established, I am not bound by the constraints of human law. I've waited, as you requested, and given the proper channels their chance and they've failed. By your leave, Mazikeen and I shall retrieve the Child. By any means _I_ deem necessary." 

And damn her to hell, Chloe loved the sound of that. The promise of violence, of retribution, of everything her very soul cried out for. And Lucifer, he didn't move, barely breathed as he waited, the Devil himself, for her permission to unleash Hell on Dan. And damn her to the pit, she gave it. A single nod and a whispered, "bring her home," and he was in motion. His phone was in his hand instantly.

"Mazikeen," he barked when the demon answered on the second try. "The humans have failed. Pack a bag. We're going to Mexico."

"I'll be quicker without you and Decker," she argued, the sounds in the background very clearly her packing a bag of sharp objects.

"It will just be me. The Detective will not be coming. Just you and me. Just like old-times, Mazey," Lucifer purred, a manic glint in his eyes.

"But not," she cut in, her tone bitter, mocking. "I'm sure there are _rules_ , lines _she_ won't want you to cross."

"No," he promised darkly, "it'll be _just_ like old-times. There are no constraints on my actions."

"Excellent," she breathed and he could see her bare toothed, feral grin in his mind and feel its twin on his own face. It had been too long since he'd let himself go. Even as it felt free, part of him was reluctant to give into the darker desires of his mind. But this was not the time for introspection. It was a time for action.

"Are you at the Detective's? Good. See you shortly," he hung up and turned to Chloe, his expression softening as she sat there staring at the floor. "Chloe, darling? I love you and we'll be back with the child in tow as soon as possible. As for Daniel ... I …" he trailed off, wanting to promise her his mutilated corpse but unsure how she would take the offer. Humans reacted poorly to gory presents, from what Maze had told him.

"Do what you want with him," Chloe whispered, looking up at him with hard eyes, guilt radiating from every pore as she embraced her hatred and rage. "Torture him. Kill him. Show him he was right to fear us and wrong to cross us. Or bring him back alive and let me do it. Dealers choice." He nodded pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist before releasing her and disappearing in a rustle of feathers. 

No sooner had he left than Ella bust into the conference room, tears streaming down her face and wrapped Chloe in a hug. "Guys, I just heard," she cried. "And Chloe, I am so sorry. Even though he's going to have a hard time in Mexico because, other than a few swear words, his Spanish is _mierda._ Right, Lucifer? Where is Lucifer?" She asked looking around and only just noticing the absence of Chloe's foreboding and menacing shadow. 

"He and Maze left unexpectedly on a business trip," Chloe said softly. It wasn't entirely a lie, there was business to be conducted. She just couldn’t bear to tell Ella that she had set the Devil and a demon loose on her daughter’s kidnapper. With her full blessing. Yep, totally going to hell. 

"Ah, needing tequila from _viejo México?_ " Ella asked with a knowing glint. "So, a couple of days, max? And they’ll be back with what they went for?"

"One can hope," Chloe replied with a frivolity she didn't feel. 

"So, you wanna stay with me until he's back?" Ella offered, but Chloe shook her head. While the company was tempting she had some demons of her own to wrangle and that would be best done alone. With Lucifer's endless supply of booze andhot water. With a sigh she rose.

"Thanks for the offer Ella, but I think I'll wait for him at the penthouse," Chloe muttered. "Fewer memories of … it's easier there." Ella nodded, her expression turning sadder. 

"Call me if you need me," she offered before patting Chloe once more and moving so she could leave. Chloe nodded but she had no intention of calling anyone. All she intended to do was take a shower, contemplate just how she'd become someone who could not only sanction but almost order someone's grizzly death, get drunk and wallow in her fall and misery, and sleep. And then wash, rinse and repeat until Lucifer returned with her daughter. Because with him no longer constrained by the law or human morals, it wasn't a question of if but when.

* * *

"This really would be faster without you," Maze grumbled as Lucifer schmoozed another Mexican police officer. That made probably fifty of them in multiple states, plus calling in a few favors with the cartels, a threat or two here or there. But so far very little violence. She _had_ gotten to knife one guy who had suggested that _he_ might just keep Trixie if he did find her first and wondered just what she was worth beyond a favor repaid to Lucifer. No one else asked. 

"Perhaps, and it would be decidedly more bloody as well," he replied, straightening his suit jacket. "Not every problem can be solved with torture, Mazikeen. Nor threats. If we killed them all, who would be left to look for young Beatrice? Besides, _hablas español?_ "

"Pain and sharp objects are fairly universal," Maze argued, rolling her eyes in irritation that he still wants to play this clean. "We've been down here almost three days, Lucifer. How do we know that she's even in this country?"

"There's a hit on her passport coming in and none going out," he snapped, irritated himself with their lack of progress. As much as he hated to admit it, his favors and bribes were proving bloody useless in this matter. And after what she’d done to Ricardo, he had no doubt that if anyone knew anything he would be their first phone call. No one wanted an encore of that performance.

"Oh, and no one or nothing has ever crossed _that_ border without the government knowing," Maze scoffed, rolling her eyes again. She froze when Lucifer's hand wrapped around her throat, eyes blazing as he slammed her into the wall hard enough that she briefly saw stars. 

"I have given you _appalling_ liberties of late, Mazikeen of the Lilium, but I am not in the mood to indulge your disrespect or sarcasm at the moment," he snarled, irate at the reminder that Dan was, for once, being intelligent and that there was a very real chance that she might no longer be in Mexico. Which, while a country was a big enough search area anyway, meant that she could be anywhere.

"Unless you have something _useful_ to add, I suggest you remain silent," he hissed, releasing her roughly and watching with grim satisfaction when she stumbled. 

"I do actually," she snapped, rubbing her neck where she was likely to have his fingerprints tomorrow and glaring at him. "Why are we doing this like humans? We're not, Lucifer. No matter how much you've tried to _pretend_ these last few years. You're a fucking archangel. The Devil. The King of Hell. A title you won through bloodshed and pain. Not … _bribes_ and _deals_ ,” the last was spit like a curse. “Why are we playing softball when she’s missing. Could even be d--”

“The child is fine, Mazikeen,” Lucifer cut her off, unwilling to even hear the possibility that the child was harmed. “Azreal says that she has not died. She’s not praying, I’ve been listening. That means that she is fine, unharmed and unafraid. _That_ is why we are doing it this way. Can you imagine how terrified the child would be if we stormed in with a legion of demons? I will not risk traumatizing her.” 

“Does she even know that she _can_ pray to you?” Maze demanded. “Have you ever _told_ her or just assumed that Decker would or that she’d figure it out.” 

“It’s never been expressly stated, no,” he agreed. “However, the child has prayed to me in the past. Most notably on her and her mother’s trip to the Grand Canyon.” 

“So … you’re basing your certainty of her well being on a one-off _accidental_ prayer?” Maze scoffed, watching to block him should he lash out again. “Hell of a plan. What’s next? Scrying?” 

“You’re right,” he said after a moment. “That is flimsy evidence of her well being. Perhaps it is time to step things up. But not a legion of demons, I think. Fluffy will suffice.”

“Fluffy?!” Maze asked, leaning away from Lucifer with a grimace. “Why not Cerberus or Killer if you want a hellhound?"

“Fluffy,” Lucifer said firmly before whistling shrilly and far too high for human hearing seconds later in an entirely too anticlimactic moment, a large golden retriever appeared at Lucifer’s side. 

“Hello, Fluffy,” Lucifer purred, kneeling down and petting the animal while Maze shifted away from him. “I need you to do something for me, Fluffy, my darling. There is a man that I need found. I will bring you something of his and then you will take me to him. There will be a child, a human girl, she is not to be harmed or you will regret it for eternity. Do I make myself clear?” Fluffy nodded once and sat at attention awaiting the scent. 

“Stay with Mazikeen,” Lucifer ordered before blinking out of existence. As soon as his master was gone, Fluffy turned to Maze and bared his teeth, far too sharp and numerous to belong to the creature he resembled. While he was faithful to Lucifer, that was the only being in the universe he respected. And he had absolutely no fondness for Maze.

Perhaps something to do with her wanting to cull him at whelping for his docile appearance. Which was entirely unseemly for a hellhound. But Lucifer wouldn’t hear of it, insisting that culling the creature would be based on merit, not appearances. He took the creature to his rooms and raised it, trained it. And it really was the most effective, most viscous and most loyal hellhound in existence. When he had finally deemed it ready to track souls, Maze had teased him asking just what Lucifer planned to do with “that fluffy thing.” It had launched itself at her, and it was only Lucifer’s command to stop that prevented him from ripping out her throat then and there. And she’d fought. After that, she’d respected Fluffy, even if she knew that she couldn’t trust him. Not without Lucifer by her side. And Lucifer was gone. 

“Hi, Fluffy,” she said as he began stalking towards her, his eyes glowing red and his mouth gaping more than should have been possible, slit almost back to his jaw, saliva dripping from his fangs. “How’s Hell?” He continued advancing and she stepped back a bit, hitting the wall and wondering if she could spin ‘stay with Mazikeen’ as ‘don’t attack Mazikeen’ or if she could maybe take Fluffy in a fight this time. She had fought a few angels. That had to trump a hellhound, even one trained by the Devil himself, didn’t it? Just as she prepared herself to rebuff his attack that she could see coiling in his haunches, Lucifer reappeared and the air of menace vanished and Fluffy was a beautiful, tail-wagging, golden retriever once more. 

“Getting reacquainted, were we?” he asked, his dark eyes raking over them, taking in Maze’s defensive posture and Fluffy’s air of innocence. “No fighting in the ranks. We have more important things at the moment. You can try your skills against hers some other time.” Fluffy looked back at her over his shoulder, and she felt a slight chill go down her spine at the glee she could see in his toothy grin. 

“Here’s your scent,” Lucifer said, offering the gym shirt to the hellhound. “Find him.” Fluffy sniffed it and let out a howl that was decidedly otherworldly before pointing towards the south and looking at Lucifer expectantly. The Devil grinned and offered his hand to Maze before lightly grabbing Fluffy’s tail and allowing the hellhound to pull him through space to the location of his quarry. 

They appeared in a field next to a small adobe house. There was a small courtyard and in the middle of it, playing alone while two or three adults sat together drinking and talking, was none other than the child. Lucifer drew a breath that he hadn’t even realized he was holding at the sight of her alive and unharmed, a bit tanner than he remembered but fine. He started towards her and had gone two steps before he realized that Fluffy was still beside him. 

“Stay,” he ordered sharply before taking off across the grass at what he refused to call a run but eould admit was more than a brisk pace. At the sound of rapid feet, the other people looked up, as did Beatrice. But where they looked at him with confusion, Beatrice shot up, running towards him and flinging herself into his arms. As she buried her face in the bend of his neck, he had to remind himself not to squeeze too tightly and risk harming her. She’d wrapped her legs around his waist and was clinging to him like a limpet, but he didn’t care. She was alive, she was fine and he had her in his possession to return to her mother. He had her back.

"Hello, Child," he whispered burying his nose on her hair.

“Lucifer!” she called, pulling back to look at him, her delight shifting to confusion at the relieved tears on his cheek. “I’ve missed you. Not that I haven’t had fun with Daddy but … Why are you crying?” she asked, wiping one of the offending drops away and showing it to him.

“Because I am so relieved to see you, Beatrice,” he answered honestly. She looked at him in confusion and his suspicions were confirmed. It seemed that the child was unaware that anything was wrong. He would do his best to keep it that way. Best if she didn’t know that she’d been kidnapped, or at least didn’t learn it from him. He was certain to muck it up. 

“Are you ready to go home, Child?” he asked. “Your mother asked me to come and fetch you. She misses you and she can’t get in touch with your father.” 

“Yeah!” she agreed readily. “Let me get my things and say bye to Daddy. I’ll be glad to be home. I can’t understand all of what’s being said, but I think they don’t like me all that much. They keep calling me … con-contaminada. I think it means tainted? Contaminated, maybe? Why are they calling me that? Is it because Mommy’s American? ” 

“I do not know, Child. But, in that case, Maze is right over there,” he pointed to Mazikeen and Fluffy. “Go stay with her while I go get your things and let your father know that you are coming with me.” She nodded readily and rushed over to Mazikeen, squealing loudly over the “puppy”. Lucifer watched for a moment to ensure that Fluffy would play nice with the child before turning back to the house and stalking into it, barely containing the fire trying to burst to life from his fingertips and in his eyes as he anticipated meeting the man who had made both his and Chloe’s lives hell on earth. 

The people, not innocents from what Beatrice said they had said about her--contaminada? really?--scattered and a woman came to the door, attracted by Beatrice’s loud excitement. She took one look at his livid expression and blocked the door. “Can I help you, señor?” she asked in heavily accented English.

“You can move,” Lucifer growled. “I have business with Daniel Espinosa that must not be delayed.” 

“Lo siento, no entiendo,” she replied loudly, shifting languages likely to give Daniel time to sneak out the back like the rat he was. No matter, even if he escaped here, he would not escape for long. “Solo hablo un poquito de inglés.”

“En ese caso, muévete, señora,” Lucifer replied, grinning when she looked at him in shock. “Necesito hablar con Daniel Espinosa. Y yo se que él está aquí. Beatrice me dijo.” 

“There’s no one here by that name,” she replied, switching back to English when changing to Spanish hadn’t deterred him. “I’ve never--”

“Do not lie to me!” Lucifer snapped, his eyes flashing red. The woman began crossing herself, muttering prayers to the Virgin and the Holy Trinity, and Michael of all people. Like that pillock gave a damn about anybody but himself.

“They don’t care,” Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Now move. I will speak with him.” As he stalked forward, she backed up giving him entry to the house. It turned out that she had been doing exactly what he had suspected her of doing, as no sooner had he entered than there was the sound of a slamming door followed shortly by screeching tires as Daniel fled in a dilapidated pickup that was more rust than paint.

Lucifer briefly debated on chasing down the car but rejected the idea. His mission had been to retrieve the child and he would really rather not disembowel her father in her presence. Besides, he could always track him down later at his convenience. He had Fluffy. His primary objective, retrieve the child, had been done. And in his haste, Daniel had left all of their belongings, including her passport. He collected her things, not bothering with his, and left the house, pausing to nod to the cowering woman in the entry hall. 

“Thank you for your _help_ ,” he said, the words dripping sarcasm. “If he comes back, tell him that I’m not done with him yet.” Having no idea where they were and wanting home as soon as possible, Lucifer lifted Trixie into his arms, extended an elbow for Mazikeen to grab and barked a quick command for Fluffy to follow and shifted them to the private airstrip where he’d chartered a plane on standby to be used to leave in Mexico.

“That was so cool,” Trixie said, grinning up at him. 

“Quite,” he agreed, gesturing towards the plane and placing her on the ground. “That’s our ride home though. Go pick out a seat.” As he watched her bound off, he turned to Maze and Fluffy.

“Hunt him down,” Lucifer said softly, not wanting the child to overhear. “Together. Fluffy, you will follow Mazikeen’s commands on this mission as you would my own. Am I understood?” There was a curt nod from the hellhound. And Lucifer smiled, satisfied. 

“Dead or alive?” Maze asked softly. While she had grown fond of Dan, she would gladly kill him for what he had done to Chloe if Lucifer wished it. Lucifer thought about it a moment, his face twisting with indecision before he ground out an answer.

“Alive,” he spat out reluctantly, rubbing his face aggressively. “Bring the Douche back alive. Chloe expressed a vague desire to see him serve earthly punishment before his eternal torment begins.That’s why this took so bloody long in the first place.” 

“Done,” Maze agreed before grabbing Fluffy’s tail. “Take me back.” As they blinked out of existence, Lucifer pulled out his phone and updated his contact with the _federales_ telling them that he had recovered the child and would be giving them all the credit though she would be returning to LA that evening. The man was more than happy to take all the glory, but Lucifer didn’t begrudge him it. After all, how else was he going to explain her recovery to the FBI. 

As he boarded the plane, the child was standing in the middle, looking around as though she couldn’t decide where to sit. He nodded to the captain, who began making preparations to get them airborne and then moved to sit in a seat by the window. Flying by plane wasn’t his favorite form of transportation, but there needed to be a papertrail of her return to the United States so using his wings was out. He was quite pleased with himself when he didn’t jump as Beatrice sank into the seat next to him, burrowing into his side and resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Maze?” she asked, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. 

“Still had business in Mexico,” he reassured her. “I’ve got her a ride home when she’s done.” Trixie hummed, crawling fully into his lap. 

“I’ve missed you, Lucifer,” she whispered, clinging to him again. “Daddy and Tia Maria didn’t like it when I talked about you. It made them fight. Daddy even yelled at me over it. Said that I might as well forget you because I’d never see you again. That you wouldn’t stay with me and Mommy. But I knew he was wrong and told him so. Then Tia Maria would yell ... anyway, I’m glad you came to pick me up.”

“So am I, Beatrice,” he replied, resting his cheek on her head and taking comfort in her warm weight against him. She was real, she was whole and she was going home. “And you’ve no idea how I’ve missed you, Urchin.” 

“So, you don’t think I’m contaminated?” she whispered, and Lucifer suddenly wished that he had razed the place to the ground. The uncertainty in her voice as she wondered if she was pure or evil, he should have killed them all. He looked her over more carefully, searching for any sign that the mistreatment had been physical and finding none. But as he knew from experience, that didn't make the hurt less.

“No, Child,” he replied quickly, stroking her hair. “You’ve the purest soul of any human I’ve ever met.” She said nothing more, but her contented sigh made his heart soar and ache simultaneously as nothing had in quite some time. She really was precious, this child of a miracle who found comfort in the arms of the Devil. He made a mental note that once she was returned to her mother he should pay a visit to Tia Maria and instruct her on appropriate rearing of children. But for tonight, he would comfort her, this child who inexplicably trusted him. 

* * *

As she watched the man with the glowing eyes disappear with the woman, the child and the dog in a flash of white, Maria knew that Daniel had been telling the truth. The Lucifer that Trixie and Dan had spoken of was _the_ Lucifer. Satan. The Fallen One. The Deceiver. Beatrice truly had been contaminated by his presence as the others had said. She reached for her phone on the wall to call Lisa and let her know that Dan was right. She stopped as there was a strangled scream from the courtyard. 

Moving forward cautiously, she saw the dog from earlier, its mouth coated in blood, hanging open far wider than should have been possible. It’s eyes were alight with the fires of hell as it stood over Sister Ana’s dying body, her dark blood shimmering in the twilight. Maria began praying, a mix of Latin, Spanish and English, invoking all the saints she could remember but stopped at the dark chuckle to her right. Leaning against the wall with a sardonic grin was the same woman who had disappeared moments before. 

“It won’t work,” the woman said softly. “They don’t give two shits about you. Which is _still_ more than you cared about my friend. She was very hurt by how you treated her and I don’t appreciate it. Neither will Lucifer when he finds out.” Her gaze turned contemplative for a moment before she struck, a blade so sharp Maria barely felt it burying in her chest. She did, however, feel as it was twisted and roughly removed, the amount of warm blood coating her chest and hand still a shock.

“Actually, you should be thankful,” the woman said, licking the blade and watching impassively as Maria slumped to the floor. “If I didn’t have an assignment with a timeline, I would have _really_ given you a taste of Hell before you went there.”

“Y-you … demon,” Maria choked out. The woman grinned and half of her face melted away to reveal twisted flesh and a milky eye. As her vision started to dim, Maria felt guilt seize her that she hadn’t completed her phone call and warned the soldiers of the presence of the Devil on earth. And then there she was, her hand on the receiver again as the screaming began once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Translations  
> Hablas espanol? ---do you speak spanish?
> 
> “Lo siento, no entiendo. Solo hablo un poquito de inglés.”---I'm sorry, I don't understand. I only speak a little bit of English.
> 
> “En ese caso, muévanse, señora, Necesito hablar con Daniel Espinosa. Y yo se que él está aquí. Beatrice me dijo.” ---In that case, move, ma'am. I need to speak with Daniel Espinosa. And I know that he is here. Beatrice told me.


	16. P is for Piano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sat down, his fingers finding the keys of their own volition. His conflicting emotions pouring from him in a flood of sound. He’d never understood why, but it was easier to sort through his thoughts when there was music involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, folks, this one has threats and mentions of torture. Nothing graphic, I assure you. But Chloe does get a bit dark for a bit. Enjoy! 
> 
> First arrangement of the piano cover can be found at this link https://youtu.be/wmTryT9A7Ek
> 
> Final song of the fic is Animal I have Become by 3 days grace piano cover link found here: https://youtu.be/w40K9FBzWKE

He sat down, his fingers finding the keys of their own volition. His conflicting emotions poured from him in a flood of sound. He was relieved that the child was home, the sheer unadulterated rapture on Chloe's face as he'd materialized with Beatrice and she'd seen her daughter would forever be his favorite memory. 

The way she looked at _him_ , though, as if he'd given her the universe, that troubled him. The abject devotion there reminded him too much of how his siblings had looked at his Father. But unlike that egotistical bastard, Lucifer knew that he didn’t deserve her reverence. Were it not for him, Daniel wouldn’t have had a break with reality. And while his choices were ultimately his own, without discovering that Lucifer was the Devil, he was sure that the douche would never have kidnapped his own daughter. Daniel had been on a bad path and would likely have had a bad end anyway, but this particular action could be traced to Lucifer’s presence. 

It had been a relief when the child had stated that she was tired and they had gone to one of the guestrooms of the penthouse. Even as a large part of him wanted to keep her in his sight, reassure himself that she was safe and home, he couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in his gut that he didn’t deserve the reassurance. With a sigh, he had poured himself a drink and sat down at the piano. He’d never understood why, but it was easier to sort through his conflicting emotions when there was music involved. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and shifting from one song to the next as the whim took him. While he couldn’t deny that he had done good in returning the child, he couldn’t help but feel that without him her return would never have been necessary. All of the pain and worry and anguish that Chloe had felt would not have occurred if she’d never met him. Beatrice wouldn’t think that she was _contaminated._ As much as he hated his name from before the fall, it had been accurate; he truly was the Poison of God, ruining everything he touched. 

He jumped as he felt Chloe’s arms around his shoulders, her soft lips on his neck, the comfort she offered burning like acid on raw nerves. It was painful, and even though he knew that he deserved it, he couldn’t stop the words that rose up his throat, “please don’t.” 

“Okay,” she said, removing her hands and coming around to lean on the piano top and look at him. “Any particular reason why not?” He avoided her gaze, looking down at his hands, the red beginning to creep across them, before closing his eyes. 

“I don’t deserve it,” he muttered, shifting songs again. “You.” 

“Why not?” she asked, respecting his request that she not touch him, even though she wanted nothing more than to wrap him in a hug and soothe away the guilt and pain coming off of him in waves. He just sighed in frustration and shifted, but made no move to get away from her or ask her to leave. The song he was playing an answer that he couldn’t give voice to; What I’ve Done by Linkin Park. 

“Oh, Lucifer,” she sighed, moving to sit beside him but still not touching him. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” he scoffed, looking at her incredulously. “You’re not responsible for any of it. You don’t ruin everything. You’re not a _poison_ . You don’t _contaminate_ everything you touch.” He hadn’t had the heart to tell Beatrice, but it wasn’t her mother that they were accusing of contaminating her. It was him. And they were right. _Dan_ had been right; he did ruin everything he touched.

“She’s not contaminated, Lucifer,” Chloe replied sadly, having had a similar discussion with Trixie. “Neither am I. And we’re not ruined. And you are not a poison. Damn it, Lucifer. You saved her. You brought her back to me. Just like you promised. Just as I asked. And I am so sorry for that.” 

“For what?!” he demanded shooting to his feet and pacing, noticing as he did that the red was spreading up his arm. “You didn’t _do_ anything!” He chanced a glance at her and the sorrow there was almost as bad as the worship had been earlier.

“I did,” she said softly. “I asked you to do something that you hate. That I _knew_ you hate. I asked you to be a punisher. A hunter. A murderer. And I knew what that does to you when I asked. But … I put my need for retribution above your needs. And for that I am sorry. Though I’m not sorry that he’s dead.”

“He’s not,” Lucifer said, choosing to ignore her apology for asking him to be the monster that he is. “I asked Mazikeen to capture him alive. You’d expressed a desire to seek vengeance on your own. I wanted to let you have it. I didn’t want you to feel robbed of your chance. And I didn’t want to chance the child seeing what we would do to him.”

“He’s alive?” Chloe asked, eyeing the crimson spreading up Lucifer’s arms and neck in confusion. “Then why?” she gestured at her own arms, raising an eyebrow.

“She wouldn’t have been taken if it wasn’t for me,” Lucifer said, laughing mirthlessly. “Twice now. If I wasn’t on Earth, Malcolm wouldn’t have been raised, couldn’t have kidnapped her. Dan wouldn’t have taken her. Dan was right. My very presence puts you both in danger. I should just--”

“Don’t you dare finish that, Lucifer,” Chloe snaped, stalking towards him and grabbing his face between her hands, turning him to look at her, _very_ aware of the fact that his head only turned because he allowed it. “My life is better for having you in it. Where do you think I would be without you, huh? Before I met you, I was the office pariah. I was one more unsolved case away from being fired. Dan was already divorcing me. I was already living in my mother’s house. I had nothing. And no one. Trixie and I would have been alone, and with me jobless, I wouldn’t have gotten custody in the divorce. So how, _exactly_ , have you made my life worse? How have you _contaminated_ me?” 

“Ever thought that you’d sanction a murder?” Lucifer demanded, glaring at her. “Because that’s what you did, in the precinct. You can’t avoid that one, darling. _You_ asked _me_ to murder Daniel for you.”

“No, I gave you free rein to do what you needed to do to get her back. As if I could stop you anyway, all I did was told you I’d understand if you did,” Chloe corrected, glaring right back. “I left it up to you what you’d do. But, you’re right in a way and it doesn’t matter if I asked you to or not. I wouldn’t have cared if you did. I’d have been glad. I still would be. He took my child, Lucifer! _Any_ mother would want him dead and I won’t let you shame me for that. I _won’t_ feel guilty for it.” Shock flitted across his face with her last sentence and he grabbed her hands, initiating contact for the first time since he’d returned with Trixie.

“No, no, Chloe, you mustn’t feel guilty for it,” he said, his words panicked. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have implied that you should because you shouldn’t and--.” 

“I don’t,” she assured him, stepping towards him and embracing him, remorse coursing through her for causing him to fear for her immortal soul (and wasn’t that enough to almost make her laugh, the Devil fearing for her soul). “And neither should you. He’s still alive. You brought him to justice and you brought her home. It’s a happy ending. So, did you all already take him to the prescient or can I see him before we turn him in?” Lucifer nodded. 

“I thought you might want to,” he said. “He’s two floors down with Mazikeen and Fluffy. We’ll go down and send them up to guard Trixie. She’s quite taken with the hellhound. Perhaps she should keep him, prevent any further unfortunate business with kidnapping.”

“You have a hellhound named Fluffy?” Chloe asked incredulously, ignoring for the moment the fact that he wanted to gift her daughter a hellhound. "Fluffy?! What the hell kind of name is that for a hellhound?"

"One that is both accurate and entirely inaccurate," Lucifer replied with a grin, his expression proud as he relished her reaction to his little joke. "He's the fluffiest and most vicious hellhound I've ever seen. Even Mazikeen fears him. Trained him myself. Loyal to a fault. The perfect companion for your child."

"We … we'll discuss it," she said softly, not sure how she felt about Trixie having a hellhound that the Devil described as vicious and that Maze feared. Things that demons feared weren't things to give to children as presents. Lucifer nodded, not catching the reluctance in her voice.

"Wonderful," he said, clapping his hands. "We’ll save that for after. Ready to go off-menu tonight, Detective?" Her mind jumped instantly back to another time in what seemed like another life when he’d said something similar when he and Maze had captured someone for her (Perry Smith) and presented him as a gift for her to vent her rage. That time she hadn't, the hurt, though deep, old and healed. This time … the wound he'd inflicted on her was still a gaping, hemorrhagic thing. This time, she wouldn't swear to what she could do, because, Oh, Go--no God had no place here-- but oh did she want him to hurt like she'd been hurting. 

"Let's go see him," Chloe said softly, shifting uncomfortably. "I … I don't know how this is going to go, Lucifer. I … I…" She stoped trying to find words as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and smiled at her.

"Whatever you do or don't do, Love, it won't change how I feel about you," Lucifer promised. "I understand the need for vengeance and the judicious application of mercy. The choice is yours as is how far you want to go should vengeance be your decision. Either way, justice will be done."

"In other words, he's yours when he dies so what I do or don't do is irrelevant?" she asked. Lucifer's elegant shrug and small quirk of his lip was answer enough. "Take me to him," she ordered before taking the Devil's hand, her thumb stroking a red blotch on the back of it and he led her to the elevator.

She was surprised when the floor was keypad protected, but she guessed it made sense that Lucifer wouldn't want anyone walking in on what they were about to do. As the doors opened, she wondered if this was the first time this floor had been used this way. Restraints, tools, what she would guess was hardcore bondage equipment littered the room. She looked up at him quizzically.

"This floor was designed to cater to the desires of my more … specialized bedmates," he explained. "Not a personal favorite kink of mine, but who am I to judge? And before you ask, to my knowledge, this is the first time that this floor has been used for someone who was not _enthusiastically_ consenting." She nodded, looking around apprehensively, wondering where Dan was and if she'd be expected to pick how to punish … no torture Dan. If she was going to do it she couldn't sugarcoat it, could she? Would Lucifer help her, guide her or would she be expected to direct and execute Dan's torture solo?

"Where--" she began only for Maze to reply, "Back here." Trepidation and what she reluctantly had to admit was excitement stirred in her gut as she walked around an actual honest to God rack, to find Dan secured to a vertical X next to Maze. Between the ball gag and what she knew this floor to have been used for, she would have thought she'd walked in on a kinky scene. That is, other than the look of utter terror in Dan's eyes, Maze's lack of lust and the most adorable golden retriever she had ever seen. 

"Fluffy?" she asked with a laugh. Lucifer nodded, smiling softly and extending his hand for the hellhound which bounded over and rubbed his palm before lying at his feet, awaiting further instructions. She could see the loyal, but vicious? He looked downright cuddly. 

"You've done well," Lucifer said, looking from Maze to Fluffy. "You will both be rewarded. Mazikeen, you and I will discuss your payment later. As for you, Fluffy, your gift will depend on how the evening goes. If the Detective is half as vengeful as she’s seems, you may get to ferry the Douche’s soul to hell yourself to play with to your heart’s content.” At that Fluffy looked up, his golden brown eyes flaring to red and his lips stretching too far and showing far too many and too pointed (were they serrated?) teeth, and Chloe got it. Fluffy on the outside but not at his core. Right… she and Lucifer were really going to have to discuss leaving that hellbeast with Trixie. 

Her attention was suddenly drawn to Dan who was shaking his head, trying desperately to talk around the gag. Maze rolled her eyes and elbowed him below the ribs, causing him to groan. 

“You’ll speak when spoken to, not about, Daniel,” Maze spat, grabbing his chin and forcing him to meet her eyes. To his credit, he glared right back at her. She raised her hand and an eyebrow and was about to strike when Lucifer's voice stopped her. 

“Thank you, Mazikeen, darling, but the Detective and I will take it from here,” Lucifer said softly but with no less authority. Maze looked surprised and Lucifer barked out a laugh, “Yes, I know. It is rare that I take matters into my own hands, but Daniel requires _special_ attention for his crimes, wouldn’t you say? Guard the child. Fluffy, go with her. No one in or out but do no harm the child. We’ll notify you when we are done.” Fluffy gave what looked like a bow before heading for the elevator while Maze nodded her head.

“I tenderized him a bit for you, Decker,” she whispered in Chloe’s ear, nipping the lobe on the way by. “Enjoy.” Chloe stood there trying to decide how this was going to play out as the elevator closed behind her. After a moment to center herself, she walked up to her ex, staring into his terrified eyes and feeling satisfaction, sick and twisted, coil in her stomach. 

“I am going to remove that gag, Dan,” she said, staring into his eyes as though trying to pierce his soul. “And the only thing that you are going to say to me is that you are sorry for what you did. No explanations. No excuses. Just an apology. And for your sake it had better be a good one.” She reached up to do just that only to discover that she had no idea how to open it. She looked at the Devil and he offered her a small smile before walking up, ignoring Dan’s attempts to move away and unbuckled the gag behind his head, stroking her cheek before stepping back once more. She raised her eyebrow and Dan stopped working his jaw and started talking.

“Chlo, what you have to understand is--” Chloe slapped him, hard enough that her palm stung and the last joint of her middle finger ached. 

“That’s not an apology,” she seethed. “I demand an apology, Daniel. Do you have any idea what you put me through?! How _terrified_ I was when the school called and she was gone?! You know what we do for a living you _bastard_! You knew where my mind would go.”

“Chloe you know I would never have,” he began only to cut out as she struck him again, this time with a closed fist, the feeling of her own knuckle splitting on his cheekbone a kind of relief. 

“I didn’t think you’d fucking _kidnap_ our child, either, Daniel,” she snapped, pacing the floor as she raged at him. “Or gaslight me for _months_ ! You let me think I was crazy! Let them all call me a bitch, a liar, and you _knew!_ You knew Malcolm was crooked. I mean, fuck!, you’re the one that shot him. Why didn’t you come clean? At least to me?” Dan looked away only to let out a hiss as Lucifer placed a needle to the tip of his finger, pushing just enough to cause pain but not to draw blood.

“I believe the lady asked you a question, Daniel,” Lucifer purred. “It would benefit you to provide her with an answer. And an honest one. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“I … I didn’t want … when it came to light, I didn’t want anyone to be able to take you down for knowing,” Dan said softly. “I cared about you, Chloe. The reason I couldn’t out Malcolm was that I wasn’t entirely clean myself. And you … you were so honest. So good. I didn’t want you to have to walk that moral grey area. I just … it was better to have you driven out of the force than to drag you down with me when I ended up in jail, Ok?”

“So you did it to protect me?” she scoffed, “All while divorcing me. And what was I going to do when they fired me, Dan? What were me and Trixie supposed to do?”

“You’re smart, Chlo,” Dan said softly. “You’d have figured something out.” His lack of regard for both her and her (she no longer considered her his) child awoke a fire in her and she pulled back to strike him again only for Lucifer to grab her wrist. She glared at him for interfering and he offered her a sad smile.

“Oh, I’m not stopping you from hitting him, Love,” he whispered, running his fingertips over her bleeding knuckles, “however, it seems counterproductive to hurt yourself while hurting him, don’t you think? Especially when there are such lovely implements available for use.” She eyed the wall he gestured to hesitantly.

“I … I don’t know how to use any of that,” she said apprehensively looking at the various whips, canes, paddles and straps.

“Learning is half the fun,” Lucifer said, leading her towards the wall and running his hands along them. “The point of knowing how to use something before you use it on a partner is to know how to cause just enough pain but not too much. Here you don’t care. I _would_ suggest a shorter whip if that’s the route you want to go. The longer ones do take a bit of skill to avoid hitting yourself with the backlash. Which, again, is counterproductive. Or you could stick with blunt implements, but they do run the risk of breaking bone and rupturing organs, in other words more damage than you mean to inflict before you mean to inflict it. Or there’s knives, but they too require a bit of practice and skill to use well and not kill someone too soon. Or fire. I can help with fire if that’s what you want. Cold might be a bit more difficult, though Lux does have an industrial ice machine.” 

The longer he talked the more her stomach twisted into knots. His calm, almost clinical, explanation of the merits and pitfalls of various torture implements made her uncomfortable and gave her a startling moment of clarity; this wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t who she was. All she was doing with this was proving Dan right, that she had changed because of Lucifer. She hadn’t missed his use of the past tense when describing her good qualities. She glanced over at Dan, the rapidly swelling place below his left eye, and then down at her own bleeding knuckles. 

“I-I can’t do this, Lucifer,” she said softly, looking up at him and seeing relief flash through his expression for a moment before he schooled it back to neutrality. “I … this isn’t me. I lost my temper and I _do_ want him to suffer. But I don’t take justice into my own hands. I … just turn him in. I’m done.” She leaned into the hand that stroked her cheek, feeling wrung out.

“As you wish, Love,” Lucifer said, pulling her into his side and walking back to the elevator without glancing back at the man still chained in the apartment. Upon arrival to the penthouse, Maze was sprawled across the bar, drinking straight from a bottle while Fluffy paced the perimeter. 

“That was quick,” Maze asked, quirking an eyebrow. “She lose her temper and kill him that easily?”

“The detective has opted for mercy and the human justice system,” Lucifer said, his tone leaving no room for comments. “Go wash up, darling. And then I’ll see to your hand.” Chloe said nothing but nodded and headed for the master bathroom, planning to run a bath in the swimming pool Lucifer dared to call a tub. As soon as she disappeared from view and he heard the water start running, Lucifer moved over to where Maze was sitting and took the bottle from her, taking a swig before passing it back. 

“Mercy?” Maze growled, glaring at him. “He _stole_ from us, Lucifer. Hurt Chloe. Hurt Trixie! Did she tell you--”

“She did,” Lucifer cut her off, taking the bottle for another drink. “Which is why mercy is not what we have to offer. She may be content with the human justice system, but I am not.” Maze looked at him in shock and he laughed bitterly, patting her roughly on the cheek. “Oh, Mazikeen, I’m not as soft as you think I am.” With a roll of his shoulders, he summoned his wings and pulled three feathers from the arch of the left one, handing them to her.

“Show him why it’s a bad idea to steal from the Devil or those he loves,” Lucifer ordered softly. “Use the last feather to erase the evidence, then take Fluffy and give him to my connection with the _federales_. I promised them the credit.”

“With pleasure,” Maze grinned darkly, rising sinuously from the bar, grabbing the bottle and heading for the elevator. “Come on, Mutt,” she called just before it closed, Fluffy glanced at Lucifer who nodded before trotting towards Maze with his eyes beginning to flash red. As he sat back down at his piano to play while he waited for her to finish bathing, he wished that he could feel disgust for what he had just done by subtly ignoring her choice to grant mercy. Because what he had told her was true, he did understand mercy. It just wasn’t an emotion he was inclined to feel when those he loved where hurt. But vengeance, it and he were old bedfellows. Besides, she had given him free rein to do with Daniel as he would. 


	17. Q is for Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his public persona and seeming thirst for company, she has come to learn that Lucifer enjoys quiet as well.

Despite his exuberant public persona and seemingly endless thirst for company, she has come to learn that Lucifer enjoys quiet as well. When the spotlight is off and he's alone, the mask slips. Sometimes it's a good thing. 

It's happened very rarely, but she has come over unannounced to find him lounging on his sofa, shoes off, belt off, cufflinks gone and shirt mostly unbuttoned, reading a book. Once, he was even so engrossed in what he was reading (some old book with a name on the spine that she couldn't make out) that she was able to study him. Drink in every detail of his relaxed state. The memory still made her smile, something about seeing him so thoroughly unguarded felt far more intimate than seeing him naked. She must have made a noise because he had looked up at her and smiled softly, the grin that she so rarely saw that lit up his whole face and made him look younger. 

"Join me?" He'd asked, lifting the book and scooting towards the edge of the couch to allow her room. She still had to lay mostly on him but she didn't mind. She made herself comfortable and them glanced at the text, wondering if it was something that they could read together. It wasn't. While she thought the words on the page looked like Arabic, it wasn't something that she could read. 

"I didn't know that you read Arabic," Chloe said, rolling her head up to look at him rather than the indecipherable, though pretty, script.

"I read most modern languages and speak many more," he replied simply his tone matter-of-fact ratherthan bragging.  "However, this isn't Arabic.It's Persian. Farsi if it was modern, though it's not. Would you like me to read it for you?" She nodded wordlessly and settled against him. He started reading, his finger tracing the line from right to left, initially he translated but less than a line in he reverted back to Persian. She drifted, enjoying his warmth and the rumble of his words in his chest under her cheek as he read her a story she couldn't understand. And then a word caught her attention; a name: Scheherazade.

"Lucifer?" She asked quietly when he paused to turn the page, "are you reading 1001 Arabian Nights?" 

"No," he countered. "This is  _ Hezār Afsān _ meaning 'The Thousand Stories'. Though it only has 800 or so. A much older tale that the other one."

"So it's not the story about the cunning Scheherazade keeping herself alive by telling a crazy murderous king stories that don't end until he decides not to kill her?" she asked innocently. He laughed, such a rare sound even now that she couldn't contain her own grin. He really did have a nice laugh.

"That is not what I said," he replied primly. "Now, do you want to hear it or not?"

"Sweetheart, I could listen to you read the phonebook," she replied cuddling back into him and hiding her grin as she could almost hear him planning to make some crude remark about there being a better use for his mouth so she debated a moment but added, "though I suppose it's a good thing that I like your voice since you never shut up." 

"I do so!" He retorted indignantly. "Why, I was silent when you arrived, was I not?" She lifted her head again to look at him, hoping she hadn't actually offended him. But no, despite the tone, the fond smile was still in place. He was still teasing her. Two could play that game.

"True," she conceded, though the gleam in her eyes told him that she wasn't entirely ready to surrender. He was right. The gleam became an outright smirk as she added, "I suppose what I  _ meant _ to say was you  _ rarely  _ shut up. Maybe you should pop down to Hell for a bit and see if it'sfrozen over." She was worried that she had gone too far when a wicked grin spread across his face and he set the book aside.

"A wager, darling," he purred, shifting so that she was pinned between him and the couch rather than being sprawled across him. He eyed her hungrily and she shifted trying to make a bit of room, which he did not allow. Instead she petted the side of his neck, lingering behind his ear. 

"I'm listening," she replied, excitement more than trepidation stirring in her stomach. It wouldn't be the first sex-based wager between them and while she had no idea of the exact nature of this one, she had no doubt that it would be fun. 

"What I'm proposing is a contest between you and myself," he whispered, his breath ghosting along her ear. "First one to utter a word loses. We go to my bed and do our best to make the other one fail."

"I'll up the wager," Chloe replied, knowing that despite his skills with pleasure, she had the advantage here having tried to keep from waking a sleeping baby while slaking her lust. Restraint during sex wasn't something Lucifer was particularly good at. He worked an eyebrow and she knew that he was intrigued.

"First  _ noise _ loses," she whispered, her lips against his. 

"And what will I win?" He asked, his expression smug, thinking he had this in the bag. She couldn't wait to wipe that look off his face.

"You're choice off the maybe list," Chloe replied without thinking. "What will I win?"

"Whatever you desire," Lucifer said, as if it was the most obvious thing. "Anything within my considerable power to give is yours, Chloe. You need but ask."

"If I win . . . You have to be nice to Dan for a week," she had said watching as his expression morphed into one of horror. She raised an eyebrow wondering if the stakes of the wager were too high for the Devil, and was about to taunt him when he nodded, his expression changing to one of resolve.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing I won't lose," Lucifer had replied before leading her to his bedroom. And lose he did. It had been quite funny to see Lucifer biting back his scathing retorts and offering Dan praise. The confusion on Dan's face had made it all the sweeter. But that was a while ago. Before everything went wrong.

This was one of those times when quiet wasn't such a good thing. She'd known that it would be bad when she'd arrived at the penthouse and the only light had been the illumination of the bar. There had been no music, piano or otherwise which was also never a good sign. She looked around in the dim room, trying to see him but it was only when he clicked his lighter, the flame and the cherry on the cigarette giving him away that she found him. 

He was sitting at his desk, numerous empty bottles of whiskey on the table,countless cigarette butts and what looked suspiciously like the ends of more than a few joints filling the ashtray. His eyes, lit with hellfire were sluggish and she knew that meant there was more in his system than alcohol and pot. But the defeat that wafted off of him concerned her more than drugs that would be gone in half an hour. 

"Hi," she said softly. Rather than respond, he looked away. "I'm not going to ask if you're okay, because clearly you're not but . . . Do you want to talk about it?"

"If I do, you'll leave," he rasped, clearly having not used his voice for quite some time, the disuse and smoke coloring the words. 

"Probably not," she replied, not wanting to promise she wouldn't when she didn't know yet what it was that bothered him so. She might have to leave to kick someone's ass and wanted to leave that option open. But he wasn't going to drive her off. Not now.

"You will," he said simply. "I . . . recieved Mazikeen's full account from our expedition to Mexico. There were . . . casualties. Not innocents but--"

"That bitch Maria?" Chloe scoffed. "Yeah, Maze told me. And I know it says something terrible about me that you care and I don't but yeah . . . I don't care. She deserved it for making Trixie feel  _ contaminated _ ."

"I also know what Maze and Fluffy did to Dan," she said, moving to his side, sitting beside him but not touching him, giving him space. "And that you ordered it. And . . . I . . . I  _ wish  _ I could say that I hate it but I don't. I'm glad that you slowed me down enough to let me see that hurting him myself wasn't what I wanted. I'm sorry if I disappointed you but . . ." she trailed off unwilling to say that she was  _ glad _ that he had suffered more than he would in a modern jail and that she hadn't had to make him do it. She still hadn't made peace with that darker part of herself enough to share it with anyone, even him. 

"You didn't disappoint me; I'm glad that you couldn't do it," Lucifer said softly, startling her all the same. She looked at him and his eyes were unbearably sad. "I understood your need for vengeance--feel it myself--but the thought that I had led you to abandon your morals hurt even as I supported your choices. That you, who argued with me over the life of a crime boss who had kidnapped you tried to mame you and was prepared to kill you if I didn't pay him, would be eager to shed blood, to  _ torture _ , I was concerned that Maria had had the right of it. Dan and Dad too. Maybe I am a poison, contaminating everything I touch. That was my original name, you know? Samael, the poison of God."

"You rejected that name," she argued, resisting her urge to cuddle him, knowing he wouldn't want it in his current mood. "Forged a new name when they threw you out. You're Lucifer. Not Samael. Not the Devil. Not the poison of anything. Just Lucifer. The Lightbringer. You bring  _ light _ . We've already discussed where me and Trixie would be without you and it wouldn't be . . . this is better. Even with what Dan did, this is better." He said nothing, looking unconvinced but his pensive expression told her she was getting somewhere. 

"Come on," she said, offering him a hand, pleased when he took it. "Let's get you cleaned up. You smell like a college house party."

"I should hope not!" He replied, the affronted tone clearly a mask but at least it was an attempt. "My stash is far superior to that of any college-aged spawn." She rolled her eyes but said nothing. 

After his shower, while they made love for the first time since Trixie was kidnapped, there were no games. Just two broken people trying to meld together into one complete whole. The soft moans and whispered words of appreciation, admiration and affirmation, a reminder that quiet is not always a bad thing. 


	18. R is for Relaxation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relaxation had never been something that came easily for Chloe. Between the stress of being on call most nights, being a single mother with a barely there father, not to mention being partners with the Devil himself, well, shoot her if her stress often got the better of her. Surprisingly, Lucifer was actually one of the least stressful things in her life. But despite the stress he caused her, he was always prepared to offer her relaxation in repayment. Sometimes that was just in commentary that made her laugh, sometimes it was in simple, easy companionship. After all, what did she have to fear with the Devil at her side?

Relaxation had never been something that came easily for Chloe. Between the stress of being on-call most nights, being a single mother with a barely there father, not to mention being partners with the Devil himself, well, shoot her if her stress often got the better of her. Surprisingly, Lucifer was actually one of the least stressful things in her life. True, there was always the chance that he would say or do something so outlandish at a crime scene or in an interview that they would _both_ be banned from the LAPD for life, but the odds of that were low. Especially with his charm and wit. Even if the fact that he couldn’t lie also extended to his ability to give a convincing apology if he didn’t feel the need for it. But despite the stress he caused her, he was always prepared to offer her relaxation in repayment. 

Sometimes that was just in commentary that made her laugh, sometimes it was in simple, easy companionship. For all that he claimed that he was unsure how to respond to non-sexual intimacy, he did a good job most of the time. One of her favorite memories was one of the family game nights before they were even together. She hadn’t even actually invited him. All she’d done was mention in passing--while ranting--that Dan was standing Trixie up on Taco Tuesday/Game Night again because “something came up” just like it always did. 

She’d sighed and muttered, “I guess we’ll just cancel until he can come. It’ll just disappoint her otherwise. Bastard didn’t even have the guts to tell her himself. God, this is going to break her heart.” Lucifer had said nothing, which, thinking back, should have alerted her to him being lost in thought. He never failed to give his opinion on things, especially when that thing was lamenting Dan’s lack of merit. But she really hadn't known him well enough then to recognize the signs. It wasn’t until they’d finished interviewing the victim’s roommate that Lucifer asked, “What exactly does Taco Tuesday entail, Detective?” 

“Eating tacos. On Tuesday,” she said, her tone perplexed. She was pretty sure that the name was self-explanatory and didn't require any special instructions. 

“Any particular tacos?” he’d asked, his expression as serious as if he'd asked who she thought the murderer was. She had laughed, assuming that this was more of his “I’m the Devil and don’t understand human customs” shtick. If only she had known at the time that he really was the Devil and that he really didn’t understand. It would have made so many things so much easier and less of a train wreck.

“No,” she replied, humoring him at the earnest question in his brown gaze. “Any tacos. Homemade. Store bought. Chicken, beef, pork. Fried, soft, crispy. Just tacos. On Tuesday. And even that is too much for _him_. One day a week, Lucifer. Is that too much to ask of him? To keep his schedule clear one evening a week to have dinner with his daughter at 6?” By the end, her amusement was gone and anger had taken its place once more. One night a week to eat dinner. Really?

“No, Detective,” Lucifer had responded, sincerely. “It is not too much for you to ask of the douche.” She sighed at his reassurance and figured that was the end of the matter. Dan wasn’t coming. She was right to be mad and Taco Tuesday was canceled. So imagine her surprise when the doorbell rang at six p.m. on the dot. 

“Daddy!” Trixie had chirped, rising to her feet and sprinting for the door before Chloe could get to her feet, which had gone numb from being folded below her on the floor while Trixie ‘braided’ her hair. 

“Trixie, wait!” she called, stumbling towards the door, holding on the couch for balance, knowing that it wasn’t Dan at the door and hoping that the deadbolt would slow her daughter enough to let her get there before she could get it open. It didn’t. She heard the door open, followed by another squeal from her daughter that had her wondering for a second if Dan had come through after all. But Trixie’s voice shattered that illusion and replaced it with one that warmed her heart nearly as much.

“Lucifer!” the child said, before there was a soft grumble and a “Hello, Spawn.” from the entry. As she came around the corner and could see them, Lucifer was standing uncomfortably on her front porch looking down at her daughter, who had wrapped herself around him, in terror and holding a take-out bag from a Mexican restaurant out of her reach. She smiled at the scene before leaning her shoulder against the wall and taking pity on him. 

“Let him go, Monkey,” Chloe ordered softly, waiting until she complied before asking, “What’s going on, Lucifer?” He shifted uncomfortably before clearing his throat and holding up the bag, as if it alone explained his presence. She raised an eyebrow, knowing already not to make assumptions about what Lucifer was thinking. 

“I . . . you said that the child would . . . I brought tacos,” he said finally, his tone uncharacteristically uncertain. “For Taco Tuesday. To spare the Spawn heartbreak. That is if …”

“Thank you,” she said, moving forward and taking the bag, placing a kiss on his cheek in thanks. “Do you want to come in?”

“I wouldn’t presume--”

“Come in!” Trixie said, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the living room. “You brought tacos. That makes you welcome.” 

“You’d have been welcome without bringing tacos,” Chloe corrected, setting the bag on the table and collecting three plates before picking the bag back up and moving into the living room. “I won’t say that you’re always welcome because, well, boundaries. But you are almost always welcome. No tacos required.” His warm, surprised smile caused her to smile in return as she offered him a taco and a plate. He took them gratefully and sat on the floor with her and Trixie.

It was only after they had eaten and were debating which movie to start and game to play that he asked, “Whatever happened to your hair, Detective? It looks like a rat made a knot of a bird’s nest.”

“I braided it,” Trixie said indignantly, her scowl only deepening when Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head. 

“That is not a braid, darling,” he assured her. “With your mother’s permission, I will be glad to teach you how to do a proper braid.” Chloe had nodded and he’d risen with a grace that should have been forbidden given how long he’d been sitting on the floor and sat on the couch, spreading his knees and patting the cushions. She looked at him skeptically and he'd smiled.

"Strictly platonic, darling," he promised, patting the couch again. "There is a spawn and even I have limits." Still suspicious, she scooted towards him and wondered if this had been a good idea as she leaned back against the couch, his long legs on either side of her shoulders. She braced herself for a comment about finally having her between his legs, but it never came. Instead, his hands came down into her hair pulling gently before he tutted and released her.

“Fetch a brush, Urchin,” he ordered. "This is going to take some doing. She made quite a mess. It's a good thing I'm here to help, Detective. I don't know that you would have ever gotten this out alone. I regret that this may pull a bit."

"It's fine," she assured him. He clicked his tongue disparagingly as she felt his long fingers enter her hair and begin untangling the mess her daughter had called a braid once more. “But she’s not a dog, Lucifer,” Chloe had muttered, trying to ignore the warmth of his legs and the gentle brush of his fingers along her scalp. He’d hummed noncommittally before running his fingers along her neck, kneading a knot here or there before working towards her shoulders. He paused when she tensed and leaned down to whisper, “Strictly platonic, darling. Devil’s honor. This isn't me trying to sleep with you. You'll know when it is. You’re just too tense. Relax.” She nodded tightly and he took that as an invitation to continue. And she did have to admit it felt divine. 

Too soon, Trixie had returned with a brush and he gently worked out the tangles placed there by inept fingers and began fashioning different styles of braids while Trixie watched. Despite his repeated claims of dislike towards children, he really was quite patient with her as he guided her smaller hands through the motions. Listening to him calmly explaining techniques and methods to Trixie and gently correcting her when she went wrong caused a swell of fondness to rise into Chloe’s chest. For the first time in too long, she was content. 

That contentment lasted through the rest of the evening. It only grew as the last of the tacos were eaten and they busted out Sorry. Lucifer seemed to enjoy himself, even praising Trixie's ruthlessness. She laughed and smiled more than she had in the previous week as Trixie explained that it wasn't ruthlessness, just a desire to win, and Lucifer had rolled his eyes. It was warm and comfortable and she knew that he was the reason for it. He really was a wonderful friend and it was one of the first times she'd realized just how thoughtful he could be. Even once Trixie fell asleep across her and Lucifer took that as his cue to leave and headed for the door, that warm feeling of contentment remained. 

“Lucifer?” she called as he gathered his jacket. He turned towards her, his head tilted as he waited for the rest of what she wanted to say.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “This was . . . you didn’t have to do this. So, thank you. You made her night. And mine.”

“I didn’t do it for the thanks,” he said softly, the warmth and companionship of the evening clearly affecting him as well. “I did it because . . . well,” he chuckled softly, “I did it to make you happy.”

“I am,” she replied. “Thank you. And good night.” 

“Good night, Detective,” he said, smiling warmly. “I’ll lock up. Don’t worry about getting up. Sleep well, Detective. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that he’d left, though the ghost of the sensation of his fingers on her skin and in her hair had lingered. That was one of the first times that she had entertained the idea of him as more than just her eccentric work partner. She had eventually given into that desire and had yet to regret it. Even if Lucifer thought it was, Dan’s stupid decision hadn’t been his fault and she didn’t blame him.

Even now as she lay on the couch, watching movies with Trixie and enjoying the solid feeling of her body against hers, a reminder that she was home and real after what had happened with Dan, she didn’t blame Lucifer. He’d returned her, not taken her, and had given her the chance to hold her daughter again. It was only thanks to Lucifer and Maze and Fluffy that she still had Trixie. They had brought her home and allowed her this closeness. And it seemed that Trixie needed the closeness as much as she did because when Chloe had gotten up to use the restroom, Trixie had protested and clung to her as she’d attempted to rise. It was only when she promised to return that the girl had released her. And she had come right back. No sooner had she gotten settled and Trixie begun browsing Netflix for something to watch than the sound of the doorbell made them both jump. 

“I don’t know,” Chloe said at the silent question in Trixie’s troubled brown eyes. “Wait here, baby, I’ll go see who it is.” A quick glance at the clock showed it to be 6 p.m. not too late for people to be coming by but a bit on the late side for unexpected company. She considered running up the stairs for her service weapon before rejecting it and opening the door. There, on her steps, stood Lucifer with a sheepish smile on his face and a Mexican restaurant take-out bag in his hands.

“It’s Tuesday,” he offered by way of explanation. She laughed and ushered him in, closing the door behind him with a sardonic laugh at her own paranoia. As he stepped into her home she could feel stress she hadn’t even known she was holding bleed from her and relaxation take its place. As he collected plates and made his way to the living room, a calm that she only felt in his presence swept through her. After all, what did she have to fear with the Devil at her side?


	19. S is for starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's fond of all forms of light. Light doesn't behave correctly in Hell. Probably by Dear Old Dad's design since He knew it was something Lucifer enjoyed. Just like sound. But even so, starlight was his favorite.

He's fond of all forms of light. Natural. Artificial. Soft glows or garish neon. Just light. It could be because of his role in the universe as the Lightbringer, or it could be something more intrinsic even than that, the desire and affinity for light stemming from his very core. But despite loving light in all its forms, starlight had always been his favorite. Even though logically he knew that the light of the stars was technically the same as the light of the sun (as the sun  _ was _ a star) the preference had remained.

Something about starlight was gentle yet illuminating, caressing and smoothing flaws, rather than harsh and glaring, casting every tiny imperfection into stark relief. Starlight and moonlight (the moon was probably the only thing his git of a twin had suggested which he'd scoffed at at the time that he actually loved) his favorite sources of light. 

Sources he'd been deprived of for eons. And even though hell wasn't exactly dark since he'd brought light there, it wasn't  _ light _ either. Light doesn't behave correctly in Hell. Probably by Dear Old Dad's design since He knew it was something Lucifer enjoyed. Just like sound. Both were distorted. Warped. Twisted beyond recognition into a parody of what they should be. A torture in their own right. In all honesty, the twisting of light and sound was almost worse than the ash. Almost. 

Not that L.A. was truly better on the sound and light front, if he was being  _ completely _ honest. Millions of sources of light and sound blending in a cacophonous kaleidoscope drowning both starlight and moonlight and music. But here there were desires, shallow and easily fulfilled, which Hell couldn't offer. 

And there was  _ her _ . And the child. And his friends. And he'd long since learned to tune out all but the most blaring of sounds and blinding of lights. Still, it didn't change the fact that he missed a time when the world was quieter, dimmer. He missed the starlight. He closed his eyes wishing he knew where to go to see them unobstructed by light pollution and his mind supplied the answer. The mine.

With no more than a thought, he found himself in front of the entrance to the shaft where a murderer had met his fate. He sighed, thinking about what had almost happened to them, Ella and his Detective, all because someone wanted to escape punishment for his crimes. He wondered absently if the man had gone to hell before deciding that it was insignificant at the moment. He laughed softly at the absurdity of not caring before lying back on the grass and staring up at the sky. 

His stars were there, crystalline gems set into a dappled black, purple, blue, green and yellow fabric that was the cosmos. There were both more and fewer of them than there'd been in the beginning. Some areas, once filled, bare voids and black holes and areas that had been bare were now nurseries for new life. His heart ached faintly at the loss of some of his favorites, while he marveled at the birth of their children, almost reincarnations with the way stars died and were born. Another suggestion of his twin that had actually been a good one. But even a broken clock was right twice a day. With a shake of his head, he banished thoughts of Michael and returned to his stargazing. 

They truly were beautiful, his creations. The only thing he'd ever done that caused pride to swell in his chest. Maybe if he hadn't been tasked with making them and seen that they were beautiful and that he alone was responsible he would never have fallen. But Dad was an all-knowing and manipulative bastard. He'd always known that The Fall was coming and He had set the pieces into motion long before he was even created. What he couldn't understand was why. That question was what was actually troubling him this evening, and every moment he'd slowed down enough to think for eons; why?

Why make him just to fall, just to be punished, vilified,  _ tortured _ . And if that was the end game, why make it so that he was cherished first? Father's favorite. The best, brightest, and most beautiful. That was what humans said of him in their book that Dad supposedly gave them. Why build him up only to tear him down? (If he was feeling lighter, he'd make a joke that it sounded a lot like the life the book had laid out for his "half-brother" and that maybe the story wasn't so far-fetched as he always thought). And it wasn't as if it wasn't predestined, because all the pieces were premade and prearranged. Him, his pride, Hell, the temptation of free will and his desire to have it. Dad controlled everything, knew everything, why did He set him up for failure, torture, misery. But more importantly, why didn't it end there? Why did He set up Chloe and Beatrice for the same? 

Chloe, the first human whose existence was ordained by Him since Eve. And Beatrice, the child of a Miracle. They should have been blessed, guarded and guided by Dad himself who had demanded their existence. But, instead, they'd been handed to the Devil, made for him even just so his curse, his condemnation, his  _ poison  _ could contaminate them. Just so that they could be forced to suffer. And suffer the had, no matter what she said. And he'd suffered with them. And maybe  _ that _ was His intention all along.

The sight of Chloe (strong, dependable,  _ capable  _ Chloe) collapsing under the grief of knowing her child was gone, watching-- helpless at her request--as she waited in vain for the human law to solve a problem that would have taken him mere moments as the Devil. Hearing Beatrice, the purest person he'd ever met, asking if she was  _ contaminated. _ The rage and bloodlust in Chloe's eyes as she'd demanded he find Dan and sanctioned his likely murder (so outside her normal position he'd almost refused even as his soul had cried out in joy at the release of its constraints). The cold calculation in her gaze as she decided how to torture the man who had taken her child, her grim satisfaction at punching him. 

He hadn't lied when he'd said he was relieved when she couldn't go through with it. Not that he would have stood in the way of her exercise of free will, but she is too good, too pure, to be sullied by the Devil's work. And she would have blamed herself had she tortured the Douche. Perhaps even condemned herself over it. Maybe  _ that _ was Dad's endgame; twist the knife that little bit further by showing him that he could poison and corrupt even the purity of a miracle. He knew that not even his favors owed from Azrael could save her from damnation if Dad willed it.

_ Please no _ , he thought directing the prayer to his Father, knowing it would go unheard.  _ Please don't punish her just for daring to care for me. Please. _ As he'd expected there was no reply from on high. 

He closed his eyes, his stars doing nothing to alleviate his melancholy that evening. Needing more distraction than stargazing, he wondered if Ella had been right that evening that seemed an eternity ago. Had he made stars again? Reaching for that feeling of peace and pride--so far from what he now felt he wasn't sure he  _ could  _ achieve it--he looked down at his hands and tried to will stars into existence. Nothing happened. 

Just as he was about to give up, there was a faint spark. And the another, swirling around the first as more joined the ranks, a miniature galaxy summoned at his whim. Wonder and joy filled his chest as he watched his newborn stars dance for the first time since the dawn of the universe. Pride swelled within him at the intricate beauty of it, his little creation. 

He couldn't wait to show Chloe. And Beatrice! Perhaps he could replace her garish plastic stars with cold-to-the-touch miniatures of the real things. It would bring her pleasure that would, hopefully, alleviate all the hurt and doubt she had to be feeling now. He would go over in the morning and offer. As his mind summoned a memory of her delighted shriek he smiled and prepared to wear something he was willing to sacrifice on the altar of the child's happiness. 

He rose, planning to go home and perfect his craft for tomorrow, when a wave of terror hit him hard enough he stumbled. His eyes instantly roving for danger, for his twin (the wielder of fear), his little galaxy in his hand prepared to be thrown in the prat's face. Seeing nothing, he shook himself, allowing the new stars to float into the sky to join their larger cousins, unwilling to extinguish them. Even with the raw, primal fear gone, an odd sense of  _ wrong _ , of injustice prevailed. It made no sense. And then it did and he wished it didn't.

_ Lucifer, please. I need you, _ the prayer was shot through with so much heartbreak that his own heart stuttered. It took him a moment to realize it had been Chloe's voice. In the next beat of his now racing heart he appeared in her home. Almost as soon as he appeared she was there, weeping and clinging to him hard enough that he knew he'd have bruises come morning. 

"Detective, darling, Chloe, what's wrong?" He asked, supporting her as her knees gave out before kneeling and pulling her into his lap. She continued weeping, her tears soaking through his shirt as her sobs cut into his soul. 

"What happened?" He demanded. Her only answer was to press a wadded up paper into his hand. He opened it and read. It was an emergency order of protection for one Beatrice Espinosa against Chloe Decker and Lucifer Morningstar filed by one Daniel Espinosa. With a court date early next week to determine disposition. 

"They took her," she breathed. "I couldn't stop them, not legally, and-and they took her. I can't lose her, Lucifer. N-not again. Please, not again!" He held her as she wept and stayed silent as she pleaded again with his Father and the universe to make it stop. For the first time in millenia he felt truly powerless. There was nothing he could say or do to make this better. As he'd told her before, once things were digitized he couldn't make them disappear. As the woman he loved wept herself to sleep in his arms, he felt shame and rage burn in his veins. A single moment of weakness, of mercy, ordering Mazikeen to capture Daniel alive rather than flay him where he stood had led to this. He was absolutely certain of one thing, no further such mercy would occur. 


	20. T is for Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer though he understood terror. The fall, his early years in Hell. Believing he'd lost the Detective when she'd been poisoned. But this, this was a new level of terror.

Lucifer though he understood terror. The Fall. His early years in Hell. Believing he'd lost the Detective when she'd been poisoned. But this, this was a new level of terror. Despite numerous assurances by multiple people that the law was on their side and Beatrice would come home with them that evening he would believe it when he saw it. In his considerable experience justice was rarely just. And sitting in a mortal court room awaiting a mortal woman's judgement filled him with a terror he'd never known, even forcibly prostrated at the feet of Dad himself. 

From what his contacts had told him, after Daniel had been "apprehended" by the  _ Federales _ and surrendered to the FBI, he'd attempted to justify his sins by blaming Lucifer for pushing him to take Trixie for her safety. Sadly, the douche had been more intelligent than he had given him credit for and had listed all of Lucifer's sins bar one; he hadn't mentioned that he was the actual Devil. He had continued to claim that Trixie was in grave danger and that's why he'd taken her and ran, citing Lucifer's connections and Chloe's occupation as his reason for avoiding proper channels. And someone had believed him enough to serve the Detective with an order of protection and now they had to defend their right to the child.

No matter how it came out--and Lucifer wasn't naive enough to rule out a loss, not with his track record and being  _ literally _ God-damned-- they had the comfort of knowing that Daniel wouldn't get her. He was now  _ truly _ a criminal and not just a kidnapper--in case the system was broken enough to let him beat that charge--since all his other crimes had been uncovered in the search for Trixie. But neither would Chloe if this didn't go in their favor. Which would truly break her as nothing else had managed to do. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Even he knew better than to try to deal his way out of it. Bribery  _ was _ a crime, after all, and would do nothing but prove Daniel’s point. And their behavior on this would have to be above reproach. Daniel had seen to that.

Unlike other trials he'd been to, this one consisted of him, Chloe, character witnesses, Dan, a prison guard, and a single Judge. The hearing had been scheduled for earlier in the week, but Daniel’s attorney had refused to allow nearly all of the judges by digging up vague and amorphous connections to Lucifer--though, really, what use had he for a family law judge?--and they’d eventually bussed one in to oversee the hearing; a Judge Smith. Trixie had given her statement to the judge in private before Daniel was brought in so as not to traumatize her with the sight of her father in shackles. She was then sent with Penelope to the playground attached to the courthouse before he or her mother were allowed in. They hadn't even been allowed to see her. 

It was less formal than the criminal trials he’d attended, but he could never remember a time he felt more persecuted, even when his mother had tried to get Chloe to call him a liar. Even at his farce of a trial after the rebellion. But, in all honesty, the stakes hadn't seemed so high. There only he had been on trial. Only his future was at stake. Here, Chloe's life and future, as well as Beatrice's, were at risk and it all hinged on him and his crimes yet again. Because, of course it did.

It turned out that Daniel's only complaint with Chloe had been her association with him. He willingly admitted that she was a good and devoted mother. Daniel claimed that Lucifer was the one her child was in danger from and had Chloe so under his sway that she would allow him to do anything; even harm Trixie. Daniel had presented the judge with a full list of Lucifer's known flaws and episodes of looseness with laws. Even he had to admit that with all his sins and indiscretions strung out before them it looked rather damning. The look Judge Smith was giving him suggested that she, too, was less than impressed with his exploits. Five years ago he wouldn’t have cared but now . . . he only hoped he could charm her. 

"I may not be a fit father, but what I did was for her safety," Daniel argued. "He's unhinged. He goes around saying he's the Devil, for God's sake. Ask him yourself; he'll tell the truth. He "never lies." That's what you claim, isn't it? Watch. Lucifer, are you the Devil?"

"I am . . . many things," Lucifer said slowly, trying to decide how to best obfuscate the truth, "I am a nightclub owner, a dealer of favors, a once favored, now fallen, son. A police consultant, a boyfriend, a lover…"

"Do you believe you're the biblical Devil?" Dan demanded, cutting him off before he could charm the Judge with his positive attributes.

"Not anymore," he said softly, his conversation with the Detective the other night replaying in his mind. "Through the assistance of Chloe and Dr. Martin I have worked through the self-loathing that created the Devil. I am now as you see me, and should always have been, Lucifer Morningstar. While I cannot deny many of Daniel's claims about my various vices, I have not indulged in most of them for well over a year. I do still drink but I do not do so to get drunk. I do not smoke cigarettes around the child. And I haven't hosted an orgy since I began working with the LAPD." Daniel scoffed and Lucifer shot him a glare that caused him to pale even from across the courtroom.

" _ He _ may claim that the Detective is under my thrall, but it is I who is under hers," he said looking at Chloe with a smile. "She has made me a better man, inside and out. Seeing the angel where others saw only the devil. I would never do anything to harm her. Or her child."

"So you are not a danger to the child?" The judge asked, not unkindly, but not warmly either.

"Never," Lucifer swore, the word carrying the quivering weight of eternity, locking eyes with her. "I would give my life to protect that child. I've gone to Hell for her and would do it again without a second thought. I would even make a deal with my manipulative bastard of a Father for the sake of Beatrice Espinosa or her mother. I am no danger to her."

"Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Morningstar," the Judge said. "And I see you've signed a waver so that we may question your therapist. Does that stand?"

"It does," Lucifer agreed. "Anything to prove that the child is safe with her mother and I." He ignored Dan's scoff and took Chloe's hand, offering Linda a tight smile as she was brought in. 

"Dr. Martin, you are Lucifer Morningstar's therapist? How long has he been your patient?" The judge asked, watching her carefully.

"A few years," she said clearly trying to remember how many. "I’m not quite sure how many but ever since a few months after he began working with the police."

"I see, and in your expert opinion, is the child in danger due to her proximity to Mr. Morningstar?"

"No," Linda said firmly. "Lucifer is many things but he is not a danger to himself or those close to him."

"I have records that state you had him committed," the judge said, holding the papers aloft, Linda's signature bold and damning across the bottom. For the first time Lucifer found himself regretting that decision, and all for some nutter who had claimed he was Dad. If Chloe lost her child over that he would never forgive himself.

"I did," Linda agreed. "For a case. Lucifer asked me to do it because he agreed to go undercover to investigate a homicide in a psychiatric facility in the non-voluntary section. For that he had to be non-voluntary. I  _ had _ to commit him. So I did. At the request of himself and the LAPD. As Dan well knew since he’s one of the people who asked me to do it." Daniel at least had the decency to look down in shame as the petite woman glared at him.

"You put on the form "risk of danger to self via substance abuse and self-harm behaviors" was any of that true?" The judge asked. 

"It was an exaggeration of the truth," Linda said honestly. "Lucifer  _ did _ exhibit self-destructive behaviors when we first began therapy. I can see you also have the case file where they interviewed his recent lovers. So you do know. Before he and Chloe were a couple, he drank copious amounts, smoked, did recreational drugs, and was an unapologetic sexaholic. 

"It stemmed from his desire to …" she trailed off looking at Lucifer for permission to share, even with the confidentiality waiver in place it felt wrong to air her assessment of him in open court. He nodded, smiling sadly.

"It stemmed from his desire to  _ feel _ loved, to feel anything really," she said, feeling her own heart and conscious protest baring his soul for him. "Lucifer had a traumatic childhood. Strict, yet uninterested and minimally involved parents that cut all ties with him in his late teens just because he wanted to make  _ any _ choices about his own life, exhibit free will. They cast him out, shunned him and threw him to the demons. It led to deep seeded self-worth, self-esteem and self-image issues that resulted in aberrant behavior with  _ adults _ . 

"That has resolved," Linda added. "To my knowledge, which has expanded considerably as he has opened up and grown, he is no longer promiscuous and is in a stable, monogamous relationship with Detective Decker. He drinks no more than is healthy for him. He hosts game nights instead of orgies and has installed a lock on the elevator to his penthouse that also has a private elevator from the garage so that Trixie can come to his home without going through the club."

"I'm even willing to move if the club is a point of contention," Lucifer added quickly when he saw the judge's expression, which had been softening, harden at the mention of Lux. "I own other properties with less … immoral connotations. Beatrice never has to be within a mile of Lux until she's 21 if that's the problem."

"I  _ care _ for that child, Your Honor," Lucifer said, pouring sincerity into his words and locking eyes with the judge trying to force his emotions into her mind--allowing himself that little bit of Celestial pull, undetectable to mortals not under his gaze. "I would  _ never knowingly _ do anything to bring her harm. She's safe as houses with me." 

The judge blinked, a soft smile on her face and Dan knew it was over. She'd been charmed by the Devil. He'd always known that putting her (anyone) face-to-face with him carried that risk. Lucifer was skilled at charming the unwary. No, the law couldn't help him. He'd have to come up with a new, more permanent plan to protect Trixie. Even as he plotted, Judge Smith spoke and it was like a stake through his heart, though he’d known what she was going to say. 

"Having heard the evidence, I find that Beatrice Espinosa is safe in her current placement with her mother and that her mother's boyfriend poses no risk to her wellbeing," she said, sealing Trixie's doom and causing Dan to lose his composure.

"You've damned her!" he yelled. "He will corrupt her just like he's corrupted everything his entire life! You're condemning her to Hell!"

"Remove him," the judge ordered before turning back to Chloe and Lucifer, ignoring the yelling and scuffle of Daniel being drug from the courtroom. "I apologize for his behavior and for these proceedings. I understand that he has put you both through the wringer lately and thank you for your cooperation. Beatrice speaks very highly of both of you. And I have no doubt that she is safe in your care, solo or combined. That said, CPS will make a few spot checks before this is final. I wish you both the best. And, just a thought, Mr. Morningstar, but a penthouse above a known den of iniquity is not a seemly place to raise a child, even if everything is entirely above the board."

"Understood, Your Excellency," Lucifer said, sweeping her a deep bow. "The child will not be allowed near Lux until she is of legal age. Thank you for ruling in our favor."

"You seem like good people," she said softly. "And, as I said, Beatrice spoke very highly of you both. The order of protection against you will be lifted and a new one initiated against Daniel Espinosa, should he manage to get out of jail before his likely conviction. His parental rights are suspended, as are any visitation agreements in your previous divorce decree, due to his abduction of the child. Feel free to contact the police if he attempts to contact you or the child."

  
"I am  _ certain _ that won't be necessary," Lucifer assured her, bowing again and leading Chloe from the courtroom. The Detective was silent as they were led to the playground. As they rounded the corner and Trixie came into view, Chloe dropped to her knees and opened her arms, the small human rushing into them and allowing her mother to envelop her in a bone-crushing hug. As he watched mother and child reunite he was more certain of one thing than he had ever been certain of anything before; he had told the judge the truth. Were Daniel foolish enough to attempt contact, the police would not be necessary and the body would never be found. After a few well-placed leaks to his seedier contacts that evening, Daniel would be lucky to survive to trial. It wasn't a loss he thought anyone would mourn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would greatly appreciate suggestions for V. I've had a couple of ideas that I can make fit but nothing that screamed "write me!" Any ideas out there?


	21. U is for Unconditional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unconditional love was something that Chloe doubted Lucifer would ever understand. Not that she truly expected him to, not with how conditional his family's love had proven to be. But it still hurt her very soul to see how confused he was by love freely offered.

Unconditional love was something that Chloe doubted Lucifer would ever understand. And that was a fact that broke her heart. Even after all this time, he couldn't seem to process someone offering affection freely, without expecting him to provide some lavish something in exchange. Not that she truly expected him to. Especially not with how  _ conditional _ his family's idea of love had proven to be, banished for eternity for daring to ask for free will. But it still hurt her very soul to see how confused he was by love freely offered. 

One of the first times she had seen it ( _ recognized _ it for what it was) had been one of the game nights soon after their first Taco Tuesday incident. It had even started much the same way. She had complained that Dan was standing them up again and that Trixie was devastated that her father had chosen work over her.  _ Again _ . Unlike the previous occasion, he didn’t ask questions about how game night was conducted. This time, he shifted a bit in his seat until she looked at him expectantly when traffic stopped again.

"What's the matter, Lucifer?" Chloe asked, her tone a bit sharper than she intended due to her agitation with Dan. He flinched, an almost imperceptible tightening around his eyes, and froze. She sighed, and offered him a small, sheepish smile. "Sorry," she said, taking a deep breath and trying to find a calmer frame of mind. "I’m sorry. I'm mad at Dan. Not you. And I shouldn't take it out on you. Let me try again; you seem uncomfortable. What's bothering you, Lucifer?"

"I … if it wouldn't be overstepping the bounds of our partnership," he began, fidgeting with his cufflinks and looking anywhere but at her, "perhaps… well, the Spawn seemed to … she didn't object when I… nor did you, and--" she felt a wider, genuine smile split her face and a laugh bubble in her throat. 

"Are you asking if you can come to game night? " she asked, the laugh evident in her tone. His expression immediately shuttered, assuming that she was laughing at him. The air in the car seemed to cool by a few degrees, and even thought it was impossible, she had the feeling that he wanted to disappear on the spot.

"You don't have to say no, Detective," Lucifer said briskly, his fingers twitching for the door handle, looking like he didn’t even want to wait for her to stop before opening it and bolting. He opened his mouth to continue but she cut him off before he could upset them both. And she could see that he was building up to quite a tirade.

"Good," she said loudly, placing her hand on his knee, ignoring the way her chest felt when he looked at her hopefully, "because I was going to say yes." He scoffed and looked unconvinced so she rolled her eyes and repeated, "Yes, Lucifer, you are welcome to come to game night. It starts at six. Child-friendly games only."

"I'll bring ice cream, shall I?" He replied, his expression rapidly morphing into something more neutral than the gutted one he had just worn. "Chocolate? I hear that is the cure for heartbreak? Especially of the female variety. Are rom-coms on the agenda as well? Banal, most of them, but some have merit." She snorted at the image of Lucifer in comfy sweats with a blanket and a tub of chocolate icecream watching rom-coms. All he needed was a fuzzy blanket to complete the image. At his raised eyebrow, she shook her head a returned to the conversation at hand, knowing that he wouldn’t appreciate the undignified things she had just imagined.

"She's seven, Lucifer. Not seventeen. And it's not romantic heartbreak, it's disappointment," she sobered a bit at the thought then asked, "Weren't you ever let down by your parents?" She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth and gripped the steering wheel in an attempt to keep from smacking herself in the head. Lucifer was the poster child for daddy issues. She felt particularly bad for mentioning it when he curled in on himself as though she had punched him in the gut, his eyes taking on a haunted edge that tore at her very soul.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, reaching for him only to withdraw her hand as he pulled away. "I shouldn't've asked that. I wasn’t thinking. I know you and your dad have issues."

"A bit an understatement, darling," he muttered, a dark huff of laughter falling from his lips. "Our falling out was  _ literally  _ biblical. I asked for the right to choose for myself and the narcissistic bastard threw me out. Into Hell. Or had me thrown out, I should say. I guess I wasn’t worthy of His time. Just rubbish." He said nothing else, glaring up at the sky with a deep hatred that made Chloe shift uncomfortably, glad that it wasn’t directed at her. After a moment she sighed.

“He was wrong, you know?” she said eventually. 

“Indeed? How so?” Lucifer asked, quirking an eyebrow, his expression still raw, confrontational. “You think that  _ you  _ get to judge the actions of the Almighty and find them lacking?” She didn’t rise to his bait, ignoring the metaphor and talking to the very real and very damaged man under the guise of the Devil.

“I get to judge your father, as a fellow parent,” she countered, her tone not allowing for argument. “And he  _ was  _ wrong, Lucifer. There is nothing that you could have done, let alone just asking for the right to choose--dramatic as I’m sure this asking was--that merited disowning you. I can’t imagine  _ anything  _ that Trixie could do would cause me to throw her out. Let alone into Hell, metaphorically.”

“Literally,” he corrected, rolling his own eyes and looking irritated that she refused to accept that he meant what he said literally.

“In any sense of the word,” she replied tersely. “I love her, Lucifer, unconditionally. As your father should have loved you. Which, clearly he didn’t or he couldn’t have thrown you out. Therefore, in my judgement as a parent, he was wrong. And you’re not rubbish. You’re the best partner I’ve ever had. Even if you break protocol constantly.”

“ _ Civilian _ consultant,” he reminded her with a quick smile. “I’m only loosely bound to police procedure. I can claim ignorance. But I fear that you’re wrong, Detective.” She hummed to encourage him when it seemed that he wouldn’t continue. 

“Unconditional love, it doesn’t exist,” he said sadly. “All love has conditions. You humans only love others as long as they are good to you. If you are getting mutual satisfaction, some kind of payback, there is love. As soon as that’s gone . . . well . . . I guess celestials aren’t any different, in that regard, are we?”

“How do you explain heartbreak and pining then?” she asked, ignoring the metaphor again, instead addressing the very real pain there. “Those situations prove that people can love people that hurt them. And I doubt everyone that clings to a love gone cold are masochists. You just have to pick the right person to love, Lucifer.”

“And who could love the Devil, Detective?” he asked with a bitter laugh.

“Eh,you don’t seem that bad,” she said with a shrug, he looked at her in shock for a moment before smiling softly.

“So, no longer repulsed on a chemical level?” he asked, his grin widening at the reminder of just how far they had come in such a short amount of time. She schooled her features into mock contemplation before shaking her head, a smile on her own face.

“Nah,” she said, grabbing his hand and threading her fingers through his. “You’ve grown on me. So, my house at six?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he promised. And, as he said, he was a devil of his word. Six pm on the dot, he arrived at her door with chocolate cake (“You said no to the ice cream, Detective. Not to dessert of any kind.”) and stayed with them through the evening, only leaving well after dark when Trixie had gone to bed, Sorry!ed out.

“Thank you for coming,” Chloe said, walking him to the door, the peaceful relaxation of the evening pervading her bones. “Especially with how little you like children. It really did make her happy to see you."

"Only because I brought cake," he countered. "She's fond of me because I bring her things. Tacos, cake, money. She likes what I bring."

"She likes you," Chloe corrected. "She's always talking about you and Maze." He snorted, unconvinced. 

"Let's make a deal," she said, ignoring the feeling in her belly as his eyes lit with desire.

"Careful, Detective," he purred, caging her against the wall of the entry in a way that he intended to exude predatoriness, didn’t make her feel trapped. "The Devil always collects."

"Not worried," she quipped, grinning up at him. "You're not going to win but you wouldn't take advantage of me anyway. I trust you, Lucifer." His playful expression became far more somber at her declaration of trust.

"What's the wager?" he asked, his eyes shifting to a calculating gaze that she’d never seen directed at her before. He had clearly entered business mode. She hadn’t really thought that he had that mode. She knew he had to, but she was still taken aback.

"The next day you're free, we plan dinner," she said, slowly, seriously, trying to match his demeanor. "You will bring nothing,  _ provide  _ nothing, and she will still be glad to see you. And to prove it isn't a fluke, we can do it two or three times until you are convinced that she is still pleased to see you with you bringing nothing but yourself each time."

"And if the Spawn isn't elated at my mere presence?" He challenged.

"Then I have a question for you, Lucifer Morningstar; what is it you desire?" She asked, leaning into his space and locking her eyes on his like she'd seen him do to so many. She almost imagined that his eyes dilated and his lips parted to spill his secrets, then she blinked and the spell was broken.

"Because that's what you get," she said, ignoring the breathless of her own voice. "An open IOU."

"A date," he said softly, his voice not quite steady either. "You and me. A date. Dinner, some entertainment, maybe a dance or two at my club. No further expectations. Unless you offer. I will not refuse."

"What if I decide I want that anyway?" She asked, wine and the late hour and whatever the hell had just passed between them making her bold. “The date. Not necessarily the sex.” 

"Claim it as your prize for being right," he said with a shrug, pretending it didn’t matter when his eyes told a different story. "The offer still stands. I'll make it the best night of your life. Sex or no sex. Though, it would be better with sex."

"Let's stick with dinner, for now,'' she said, trying to corral her hormones. "So, when is experiment one?"

"Tomorrow?" He asked. She nodded.

"Meatloaf okay? That's what's on the menu for tomorrow." He nodded and they finished arranging the details. Needless to say, when he showed up empty handed and looking ill at ease the next evening, Trixie was thrilled to see him, cake or no cake. 

"It's just because there's still cake from yesterday," he argued. But trials two and three, though a week apart, yielded the same results. Lucifer had to concede defeat. For some unfathomable reason, the Child liked  _ him _ , regardless of what material goods he did not bring. It was something that even years later he couldn't understand. Perhaps had more difficulty understanding.

She had no reason to care for him, material goods or no. Especially now. Because of his presence in her life, her father was in prison, her mother was jumping at shadows, and she had been kidnapped twice (once by her father and once by the state). She should hate him. She should curse his name and demanded that he return to his own realm. And she would be right to do so. But she didn't.

Instead, she sat against him on the couch, her legs curled under her, Snowball purring in her lap, and her arm threaded through his with her head on his shoulder as he and her mother told her of the impending move. Pursuant to the Judge's suggestion, Lucifer was planning to move to one of his homes in the Hills and wanted them to come along. He hadn't told Chloe, as skittish as she'd been lately, but more than once he and Mazikeen had sensed someone watching the house. No one had been there when they checked, but he couldn’t shake the sensation that they were being watched. Chloe had vetoed Fluffy living in her home, but had been unable to argue against him patrolling the perimeter--provided, of course, that he didn't harm an innocent. But until he had something more concrete, he had no intention of upsetting her further.

"You'll be with us?" She asked, looking up at him with wide brown eyes. "And Maze?"

"I will live there, yes," he agreed. "It’s one of my homes. And Mazikeen is welcome as long as she behaves."

"Snowball?" The Child asked softly, her voice impossibly tiny as she looked down at the feline. "I know you don't like cats but I’d hate to … can I bring Snowball?."

"Didn't," he corrected, petting her head in an attempt to soothe her. "Nor children. But you've both grown on me. The cat is welcome as well. Provided you tend it's sandbox."

"It's a litter box, silly," the Child corrected. "Okay. When do we move? As long as you and Mommy and Maze and Snowball are there it'll be alright."

"You'll still get to attend your school," Chloe promised. "Lucifer or I will just have to drive you."

"Or fly her," Lucifer suggested with a shrug. "Darling, traffic to her school from the Hills would make Hell look like a cakewalk. Not that I would not endure it for you, Beatrice, but flight is a much more rapid form of transportation.” The Child’s morose expression vanished instantly and it was sunlight beaming as she grinned at him. 

“You’d do that?” she asked, bouncing and earning an indignant meow from the cat in her lap. “You’d fly me?” A quick glance at her mother, and the uncertainty in Chloe’s expression had his quick answer of ‘yes’ dying on his tongue.

“Provided your mother does not object,” he qualified. “I would be delighted to escort you safely to and from school.”  _ And ensure that you arrive and depart without incident. _

“We’ll discuss it,” Chloe said softly. “As to when … I … The lease on this place is up in two months. I just won’t renew. But I hate to waste the money, so we can aim for being out by then.”

“I’ll have a moving company here tomorrow,” Lucifer said simply. “There is no need to delay, Love. I’ll pay the rent here if that’s what concerns you. I can probably even find a subletter so the space isn’t going to waste. I think April from Lux is looking for a place to live.”

“Bed time, Trix,” Chloe said softly, bending to kiss her daughter on the forehead. “I promise, we won’t make any big moves without telling you.” The Child nodded, releasing him to hug her mother.

“Night, Mommy. I love you,” she whispered and her mother replied in kind. He was shocked when she turned to him and hugged him tightly burying her face in his neck as she had done in Mexico. “I love you too, Lucifer. Thank you for everything.”

“And I you, Child,” he responded after a moment, signing into her embrace. “I would do anything for you or your mother. Good night, Beatrice.” She wished him goodnight and scooped up her feline before going to her room and closing the door. He watched after her until he sensed Fluffy lying down under her window, only then did he turn back to her mother. Who was glaring at him as if he’d proposed that they move to Hell. Brilliant. 

“What do you know that you aren’t telling me, Lucifer?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “You are never this impulsive. Not when it really matters. Offering to fly her to school daily. And don’t think that I have forgotten your insistence that Fluffy be allowed in my yard. Or that I haven’t noticed Maze outside her school. I’ve allowed it because it’s not hurting anything but what don’t I know?”

“It may be nothing,” he hedged, embarrassed at having been caught keeping secrets. “I don’t know anything definite yet. I didn’t want to worry you over nothing. It’s only that both Mazikeen and I have, at times, had the sensation of being watched.” he paused before adding “especially here.” 

“So I’m not crazy,” Chloe said with a wet laugh. “I-I thought I was. I’ve felt like we were being watched and just . . . tomorrow then. How’s your security?”

“Hellish,” he promised, a feral grin splitting his face. “Nothing that is not supposed to be there will be allowed on the grounds, let alone into the house.”

“Grounds,” she laughed, rubbing her face. “Like with walls and everything?”

“Only on three sides,” he said, wrapping her in his arms and pressing his nose into her hair, the soft scent of her shampoo comforting him. “And if you hate it, I have other properties we can look at. And if none of those please, I would be willing to acquire one that does. I would have you like the place you're living.”

“My home,” she corrected, pressing a kiss to his neck, warmth spreading through her at his thoughtfulness. “The word you’re looking for is home, Lucifer. And I think it will be fine. After all, you do have good taste in most things. Let’s go to bed, yeah?” He nodded accepting her invitation, but he knew that even with Fluffy guarding the house, he would fell better after the move.

***

"Ma'am, there's a letter came in the mail for you today," Martin said, laying the letter on her desk and walking from the room with a deep bow. Curious, Lisa lifted it and studied the envelope. She didn't recognize the return address, but she did recognize the name; Brother Dan. The fool who had cost them four loyal soldiers and months worth of intelligence when he'd brought a demon and a hellhound to her door. 

Lisa had seen the tape from Mexico, as Sisters Maria, Carmen, Ana and Brother Ricardo were killed by what were certainly a demon and a hellhound. In a way it had proved his allegations that his daughter and ex-wife were bewitched by Satan--why else would a demon and hellhound be sent to fetch the child--and if Dan were to be believed further, the rescue would have been ordered by the Devil himself. Who may even have assisted with it. Sister Maria had certainly reacted poorly to something Lucifer Morningstar had said or done. But what were the odds that the man was actually Satan? Though Dan’s information had proven good on his daughter's connection to the infernal. Perhaps, unlikely though it was, this Lucifer Morningstar was actually the Devil's earthly vessel. 

It was that final thought that made her open the letter rather than throw it away. She almost wished she hadn't. It was almost as useless as Dan himself. 

  
  


_ Lisa, _

_ I'm sorry that I was unable to keep our date. Something came up with my daughter. As you already knew, I don't trust her mother's boyfriend. What you didn't know is that I recently took her and ran to Mexico to save her. It failed. I was caught and am in jail. It has made me see more than ever that you were right. I am too rash. I cannot continue to act alone on my own wishes and need the guidance of God. But if you will help get me out I remain devoted to you. All that I am is yours.  _

_ With unconditional devotion, _

_ Dan. _

She scoffed as she read it again. Unconditional devotion. The man didn't know the meaning of the word from what Sister Maria had managed to relay before her demise. He had claimed his daughter was corrupted,  _ begged  _ them to help even. And they had. They had offered to rid her of the corruption, to purify her, but he had refused; concern over the girl's comfort outweighing concern for her soul, saying that she would be fine away from Lucifer's influence. That she could be brought back to the fold without drastic measures. 

Not that she truly blamed him. That business with James Marshall had left everything a bit sour. Dan had been particularly agitated when he'd recognized the sigals and signs of the rituals. Apparently this wasn't the first time he'd had to turn a blind eye for a friend. He had been adamant that it wouldn’t happen a second time. But that had been amateurs, overzealous fools who couldn't tell a homosexual child from a demon-posessed one. It was only by assuring him that she hadn't sanctioned it--which she hadn't, wasn't even aware of it actually--that they hadn't lost him immediately. 

As irritated as she was with him over their losses in Mexico, she supposed he was worth the investment. After all, he had provided accurate information on the demon--Mazikeen, he had named it--perhaps his information on Morningstar would prove useful as well. Namely, weaknesses and ways to trick the man playing at being the devil into revealing his lie, or better yet, forcing the Devil from his Earthly vessel and thwarting his plots against humanity. Yes, Dan would have inside information that could prove useful. 

  
"Mathew?" Lisa called, knowing her secretary would be nearby. She waited for his affirmative before continuing, "See what you can do to secure release for Brother Daniel." Mathew nodded and turned to follow her command while she decided to arrange a test of Brother Dan's  _ unconditional _ devotion to the cause. Now to acquire either his child or his ex-wife. Or both. And, perhaps, Lucifer Morningstar.


	22. V is for Variety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You were right, Maze,” Lucifer muttered when she was almost out the door, his voice soft and gentle as a caress across her senses, such a sharp contrast to what he had been moments before that she spun to look at him. His posture radiated defeat, though she hadn’t yet failed him.
> 
> “About?” she asked mirroring his tone. He smiled sadly at her, his eyes showing his age in their weariness. 
> 
> “Feelings suck,” he said with a sardonic laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I still couldn't decide on a focus word for this one and went with variety. Look for many of the word suggestions that y'all offered up scattered throughout the chapter. I fit as many of them in as I could. Enjoy.

As he sat out on the balcony of his new home with Chloe and the Child dozing against him, his mind wasn’t on the verdant hills below him or the warm bodies against him. No. It was on far less pleasant topics. Like wondering when Dear Old Dad was going to come up with some variety in his way of making them miserable, because the minor variations on the current theme was getting old. A sentiment he had already yelled to the sky, to no avail. Because of course the manipulative bastard wasn’t listening. He never had. 

Only, now, it wasn’t just Lucifer who was suffering for his ‘sin’ of vanity, his pride; no. It was those he had grown to care about that were paying the highest price for his vilification. He was beginning to wonder if Chloe hadn’t been an apology gift from Him as she had suggested, nor a weapon against him to make him vulnerable to physical harm as Maze had. No, it seemed his Dad had a far more insidious plan. She _was_ a way to hurt him, just not physically. Dad didn’t need help with that. It wasn’t as if Celestial weapons had ever been incapable of harming him, nor had the hands of his siblings. Hell, Dad could just will him into non-existance if He wished it. He was beginning to believe that she was Dad’s route to the one thing Lucifer had successfully defended since the Fall; Chloe was a route to hurting his very soul. 

And, oh, did his soul hurt. In depths and ways he never knew was possible, even in those desolate first days in Hell. Every tear she shed in anguish caused by her relationship to him tightened a vice around his heart and he wondered just how much more of it even his immortal flesh could take before it shattered.

_Please,_ he begged, knowing his entreaty to be in vain but hoping that his Dad would take enough joy at seeing his pride break, seeing him beg, in being **victorious** to have mercy on her, _she is virtuous, Father. She has done nothing to deserve what You are allowing to happen to her. Please, Father,_ **_please_ ** _let it end. Please._ As did all his prayers since The Fall--and perhaps before it--this one, too, fell on deaf ears. 

He shifted them closer to him, blonde and brown hair mingling against his chest, so opposite yet both the same in his devotion to them. The wind blew suddenly, carrying with it a hint of a cool sea breeze and Beatrice curled into him seeking more warmth. Without thinking he summoned his wings, encasing both her and her mother in a featherey shield. He wished that he could shield them as effectively against his Dad’s machinations. Because injustice this profound could only have been orchestrated by Him. All he could hope now was that Mazikeen would come through before Beatrice realized that anything was amiss. He knew that his heart could never bear her tears for the fallout from his sins as well. 

* * *

“What do you think, Love?” he whispered as Chloe continued to walk around the house he was showing her without giving voice to her verdict on it as their new home. She had frozen in front of the floor-to-ceiling seamless windows, allowing a full view of the vastness of the valley below them. He tried to appear uninterested in her decision as she turned back towards him, but her soft smile told him that she had seen through the veneer. In all veracity, he was quite vested in her decision. Of all the properties he owned, this had the best vista. He hoped that she approved of it. If he had to give up living above Lux, this was his next residence of choice.

“Honestly?” she asked, shifting from one foot to the other as she tried to choose the answer she wanted to give. Her indiscision was quite worrisome. He had fully expected her to look around, perhaps hug him and agree. Modesty wasn’t something he could ever be accused of and he was quite well aware of the desirability of this home. He felt himself beginning to grow uncomfortable as well and began fidgeting with his ring in an effort to remain still. How the denizens of Hell would laugh--and of the Silver City for that matter--to see the Devil concerned over the approval of his choices by a mortal woman. 

“I would accept nothing less,” he assured her, forcing his tone to conceal his restlessness, even as he knew simply from her apparent anxiety that she was going to reject it. Her expressive face shifted from desire to discomfort as her thoughts clearly vacillated between wanting and refusing the home. “Do you like it?”

“I … I love it,” she muttered, sounding as though the words had been drug from her very viscera by hooks and chains. “But … but Lucifer, it just … it’s too much. I mean … how many bedrooms does it have?”

“Nine,” he said with a shrug, taking her hand and leading her deeper into the home, hoping that seeing more than the living room would sway her. “And eleven bathrooms.” 

“I … I can’t afford this,” she whispered, looking on the verge of hyperventilation as they reached the kitchen, her wide, shocked eyes reflecting at him from the lustrous surfaces of the stainless steel appliances, dredging up unpleasant memories. “I-I-I could _never_ afford this. Hell, I can’t even afford the pool house.”

“I own it,” he reminded her, taking her into his arms and stroking her hair, leaning his cheek on the crown of her head and closing his own eyes, reminding himself that this wasn’t that. Her rejecting this home was not her rejecting him.

“I am not asking you to purchase it,” he whispered. “Merely to approve it as a place to live. I already own it and it was vacant. We’re not putting anyone out, if that concerns you. Which would be beside the point as, as I have stated, I own the home. It is mine to do with what I will.”

“Lucifer,” she breathed, shaking her head, and he knew that she was about to reject it for certain. “It’s just …”

“Before you actually say no, may I say something more?” he asked, pulling back to look at her blue eyes, turbulent as the ocean in a storm. She nodded, clearly desiring a reason to say yes but fighting the desire. And that wouldn't do. After all, fulfilling desires was his thing.

“I chose this property to show you because it is my favorite, aside from Lux," he said softly. "I _am_ fond of all of them or I wouldn’t have purchased them but I do prefer the view from this home. And it has a pool. And a variety of rooms that can be used however you and Beatrice desire. I know that you think it is extravagant, especially for three of us, however, lavish comfort is one of my vices. You know this. And you know how I value a view. Almost any of my homes that I show you will be on a similar scale and level of opulence. Is this one truly so repulsive that you will reject it?”

“It’s not repulsive, Lucifer,” she sighed, stroking his cheek with a small smile. “I love it. For many of the same reasons you just listed. I mean … have you seen out those windows?! It’s beautiful. And I would _love_ to live here. I just … you give so much to me. And I … I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you. _I_ don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of you. Like I’m only with you because you can give me things I could never get on my own. I love _you_. Just you, Lucifer. Not what you can do for me.”

“Chloe,” he breathed. “Darling, I know that. I do,” he asserted when she scoffed, knowing well his difficulty with that concept. “And that is not what this is. I am not trying to buy your love, your time. I am attempting to safeguard you and your daughter. Partially for me as I cannot bear the idea that something might happen to either of you and rob me of what little time I get with you both. That necessitates a move or drastic measures, the scope of which I doubt you will approve. As my moving is also a condition of the Child’s continued presence in my home, I suggested this dwelling, as it is my favorite. I … I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. And I suppose I can find something more … modest. Let me call Alexi. How many rooms is the limit, Love.” He pulled out his phone prepared to dial but her hand on his wrist stopped him. 

“Don’t,” she whispered. “I …” she let out a huff of a laugh, a sardonic sound, devoid of humor, “I’m being ridiculous. Even something that you find 'modest' would be so far out of my price range that I wouldn’t want to look at the price tag. Never mind split the bill for it. I’d be paying it off after I was dead. This, it’s perfect. You love it. I love it. Trixie will love it. I can probably afford to split the electric bill. Maybe.”

“That is entirely unnecessary, Darling,” he assured her, with a grimace. “I’ve seen the penance they pay you. Did you know that I pay Patrick as well for far less risk. I don't think he's ever been shot at in Lux. No. Save it to indulge the Child. I have been investing since currency was an idea, after all. I’m richer than Dad, as the saying goes. Now, come assist me in picking a room for Beatrice. There is a surprise I would like to have in place before her arrival this evening. And I do believe it will be something you will enjoy watching.” As curiosity lit her eyes, he could hardly contain his excitement at the prospect of validating her belief in his ability to be the Lightbringer.

* * *

"Ah ah ah, no peeking, Urchin," he said covering her eyes with his own hands when she began trying to peek through her fingers. 

"You're going to love this, Monkey,” Chloe promised from beside him. “Even more than the house.”

“I doubt that,” the child replied. And Lucifer could see why she would. She had been quite ecstatic when she came in. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure that his eardrums would ever recover from the sheer volume and pitch of her shrieks of joy. He hadn’t been aware that human vocal chords were capable of such sounds without injury. 

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Lucifer muttered, guiding her down the final hall and opening the door to the room her mother had selected. “Now you may peek, Beatrice.” As he removed his hands, she opened her eyes and pure, unadulterated wonder overtook her small features in the cool pale light. 

“I . . . they . . . what are they?” she breathed, looking at the tiny stars imbedded in the ceiling and walls. 

“Stars,” he said softly. “You said that you missed your plastic ones from the first house and … well, I thought I could get you something to replace them. Do you like them, Beatrice?”

“You made these?” she asked, turning to him and making him a bit uncomfortable with her almost worshipful expression. “Or did you have them made for me? Either way, I love them! Thank you!” and then she was launching herself at him and wrapped around him like a limpet. 

“I made them,” he told her, patting her head and shifting in her embrace, torn between liking it and wanting loose from her. “They are actual stars. Minuscule, cold-heat stars. They will likely last your lifetime before they burn out. I suppose I’ll have to send them to space before that. Wouldn’t do to have a supernova in L.A.. Though I don’t believe these to be large enough to become supernovas or black holes, most likely they will just burn out but all the same, when they near the end of their lives I will send them to space with their big brothers.” 

“What do you think, baby?” Chloe asked, helping Lucifer extract himself from her daughter’s embrace. 

“They’re way cooler than the plastic ones and better than any nightlight,” Trixie said. “Thank you, Lucifer. You’re amazing.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Child,” he muttered, shifting out the door to allow her and her mother to explore. “I’ll just go make the final arrangements with the movers, shall I? Assuming the home meets with your approval?”

“Duh!” Beatrice replied, channeling a bit too much of Maze for his taste. Chloe rolled her eyes, which made him smile, before saying, “It does. Thank you again, Lucifer. This place is amazing. And Trixie’s right. You’re amazing.” 

“Careful, Darling,” he teased, “I might actually start believing you. And pride is something I’m known for.” He was rewarded with another eyeroll for his efforts and headed down the hall to the happy sounds of Beatrice exploring her new space. A feeling he couldn’t put a name to rose in his chest the her cry of “he even made constellations!” 

* * *

Eventually, the child tired of exploring and settled in the living room to find something to watch on one of the streaming platforms. Their things were being packed in their home to be moved there the next day. He and Chloe had popped over briefly--something Chloe had not enjoyed, unlike her child--for her to collect an overnight bag for Trixie, Snowball, and a few things from her room that she didn’t want the movers packing. Much to his amusement, she wouldn’t let him see either. 

“You do know that I already have anything you have in your drawer, don’t you, Love?” he’d asked, just to see the delightful rise of color in her cheeks. Still modest about those things, even after all their times together. 

“I’m not showing you anyway, Lucifer,” she’d said, crimson spreading to her ears. “Somethings are meant to be private, even between … sexual partners.” The last whispered as though there were little, impressionable ears though they were alone. The memory still made him laugh hours later. Speaking of, it had been hours. The humans were probably starving and he would enjoy a meal. 

“Vermicelli for dinner?” he asked, standing and moving towards the kitchen without waiting for a reply. He knew that they both liked pasta and that neither would object, though Beatrice did have a dreadfully dull palate. He would have to work on expanding it. Honestly, pieces of onions and garlic were harmless. He would not be restricted to using powders for the rest of her natural life. 

“Is that pasta?” Beatrice asked, looking at her mother in concern, knowing that he didn’t always make normal food. “I think that’s pasta, right?” 

“Yes, Child, it is a variety of pasta,” Lucifer sighed, stopping to reassure her. “If you and I are to be inhabiting the same space, we will have to improve your vocabulary. I find your current grasp of the English language quite vexing.” 

“Hablo Espanol,” the child said brightly, her words tentative and her pronunciation clearly affected by her primary usage of English. 

“De verdad?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow in challenge. “Entonces, hablamos solo en español. Tenemos un trato?” She blinked at him owlishly and he knew with certainty that her usage of the language was not so versatile as to allow her to switch at will.

“Vocabulary, Spawn,” he repeated. “In a variety of languages, it seems. I suppose it’s a benefit to us both that I’m immortal.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered, rolling her little brown eyes. “Rub it in. Then again, I guess eternity might get boring, huh?” Rather than be offended by her clear rack of respect he found that he was intrigued by just how many of her mannerisms were her mothers and how a couple of them were clearly Mazikeen’s. It made him warm inside in a way that nothing else had in his long existence. He was surprised to realize he didn’t miss the casual sexual encounters and drugs. This wholesomeness was far more addictive and he would do anything to see either of them smile. And isn’t it an ironic vice for the Devil? Family and stability? No one would ever believe it. But that didn’t make it any less real. Sticky hands, felines and poor vocabularies included.

* * *

As they were washing up the dishes after dinner, Chloe’s phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket, checking the caller ID with confusion. 

“It’s the precinct,” she said, looking at Lucifer. She glanced at the clock shining over the oven. Almost 9 pm. “You don’t think it’s a case, do you? I haven’t figured out a babysitter here yet.”

“We’re off today,” he reminded her. “Tell them to find someone else. You’re not the only detective there, Detective.” She nodded and answered the phone, repeating his statement to the person on the other line. Something they said caused her face to contort into a grimace.

“But how is that--” she began only to cut herself off as they spoke. “I see. And-and I’m expected to just--” another pause, the grimace twisting even more and shifting into rage. “Well, um. . . thanks for the heads-up. I guess.”

“Decker!” Lucifer heard the tiny voice of Olivia say through the phone before Chloe disconnected the call, squeezing the phone hard enough that Lucifer wondered if she might break it. 

“Chloe?” Lucifer asked as Trixie breathed, “Mom?”

“That vindictive, manipulative, _cowardly_ son of a bitch!” Chloe snarled, chest heaving as she slammed her phone with more force than strictly necessary onto the table with a clatter. 

“Perhaps it would be for the best that you went to read in your room, Beatrice,” Lucifer offered, looking between her and her mother in concern. “I’m sure your Mother will be in shortly to … please go,” he finished, unsure what comfort he could offer her when her mother’s face had turned a troubling shade of vermillion with the rage that had overcome her. The child nodded and went but the vulnerable look on her face as she looked back at them made it feel more like a defeat than a victory. 

“Chloe, Love?” Lucifer said softly, moving forward as though trying not to startle a skittish animal. She seemed prepared to rage at the first thing to draw her attention, but Lucifer had never been accused of having self preservation instincts. Rather than retreat, he approached her, reaching out to stroke her velvety cheek prepared to dodge should she lash out. Instead of attacking, as he’d expected her to do, she dissolved. That same vulnerable, victimised look that had gutted him from Beatrice was present in Chloe before she grabbed him, clinging tightly and burying her face in his chest, her warm tears soaking his shirt again. 

“Chloe?” he breathed, “Whatever’s the matter, Darling? I can fix it. Whatever it is, whatever it takes. Please, I … let me fix it.”

“You can’t,” she sobbed, shaking her head. “Nobody can. He’s already proven that. The system can’t … but _you_ can. They can’t but the Devil can,” she said vehemently, pulling back and looking at him with an almost manic gleam in her eye and absolute certainty in his ability to fix it, shining as clear as the crystalline drops still clinging to her lashes. 

“I will,” he promised, unconcerned with what she might ask of him. “Anything you desire in the universe is yours, Love. You need but ask.” 

“Dan made bail,” she scoffed, breaking free to pace. “After everything he put us through, put _Trixie_ through, they … they fucking let him out on bail with an ankle monitor. And guess what? They didn’t even tell me when they did it. Because “he was secure.” But they called me tonight to say that he’s cut the monitor and gone missing! ‘You have a protection order,’ they said. And what is that? A damned piece of paper. And they know it! They _know_ it! How many times has a piece of paper stopped anyone who wanted to hurt someone else? And he knows our routines! He knows _her_ schedule. Like he couldn’t ignore the paper and take her again if he wanted. He’s already shown that he’s hellbent on taking her from me.”

“Aptly put, but he won’t,” Lucifer soothed, a verisimilitude of calm for her benefit while inside he was seething with the need to vanquish this virulent dreg of humanity . “He will never again touch a hair on her head. I won’t allow it so you needn’t worry about that, Darling. We’ve moved which changes the pattern. He doesn’t have our new address. The school knows that his parental rights have been revoked. They will not cede her to him should he attempt it there. And attempting it _here_ , should he discover your address, would undeniably prove _painfully_ fatal.”

“Thank you,” she said, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the heel of her hands, making a valiant effort at composing herself and failing. “I-I-I needed that. To… to think logically rather than… Oh God! Trixie. I need to … Trixie. I… I need …” He put his hands on either side of her face and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips.

“Go, Love,” he said, pulling her against him before releasing her with a gentle nudge towards the door. “Hold the child. Reassure her. Your outburst, while justified, did upset her. Go to her. You’re both safe here and just to be certain, I will summon Fluffy to patrol.”

“Could he … I mean … would it be safe for her if he … could he stay with Trixie?” Chloe asked softly, looking at him hopefully. “Until this is over? I just, I would feel better if I knew that there was no chance of anyone taking her from me again. If it’s safe.”

“I was just awaiting your blessing,” he nodded, whistling for the hellhound, who appeared less than a second later at his hip. “You are to guard the Child, one Beatrice Espinosa,” Lucifer commanded. “No harm is to befall her by your hand or that of another. No one is to take her aside from me, Mazikeen, her mother or her grandmother, Penelope Decker. Her father is prohibited from interacting with her with prejudice. Should he attempt it, you will first return the child to me unharmed and then do as you will with the father. He is not to survive such an infraction. Fail me in this and there is nowhere in the multiverse that you will be able to escape my wrath. Do you understand me?” Fluffy nodded his head and bowed so deeply his snout touched the floor.

“It is done, Detective,” Lucifer intoned, looking at her, his expression impassive and hellfire fading from his eyes as he awaited her judgement on the measures he was willing to take. There was no judgement, only gratitude in her blue eyes as she smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, before wiping her eyes once more, taking a deep breath, and heading down the hall, calling Fluffy after her. He glanced at Lucifer, who nodded, before following the woman to Beatrice’s room. As soon as he heard the door close he reached for the long dormant bond he shared with Mazikeen, flaring it to life and giving a firm tug on her consciousness to summon her to his side. He felt her confusion as she answered the summons she had no power to ignore and her indignation as she stepped out of his shadow.

“Lucifer?” she snarled. “What the hell! You can’t just summon me anymore. I’m not yours to--” she trailed off as she detected the murderously angry vibe he was projecting. “What happened?” she asked instead, her expression shifting from exasperation to concern. “The kid?”

“She’s fine,” Lucifer snarled, moving to pace the room to where they’d hidden the liquor, Maze following right on his tail.

“Then what--” He spun and she almost crashed into him. He stopped short of touching her and instead locked his eyes on hers, the hellfire he’d forced down for Chloe rising to the surface and overtaking his irises. 

“Mazikeen,” Lucifer breathed, all the vitriol he had managed to contain in the presence of the Detective rising to the surface and coating her name like the viscous blood she would spill at his request and by her own desires. 

“My King,” she said, her body moving of it’s own volition as millenia of memories of his previous usage of that tone overrode the knowledge of their current arrangement, kneeling down and bowing her head with her fist over her heart, offering her allegiance and veneration to the promise of violence that was rolling from him in waves. “I am your willing vassal. Command me, My Lord Lucifer.” 

“No command, Mazikeen,” Lucifer said, the desire for vengeance burning alongside the hellfire in his eyes, “you are still a free demon, my dear. I only offer you a deal. The humans have proven incapable of containing Daniel. Bring me the head of Daniel Espinosa, or adequate proof of death, and I will offer you double whatever the government is paying for his return.” 

“I’ll find him,” she promised, only now rising from her position knelt at his feet. “I’ll decide what to do with him when I do.” Lucifer nodded curtly, his eyes showing that he read through her wording and saw that she hadn’t promised him Daniel’s head. She turned to go before he could double down and make it an offer she would have a more difficult time refusing, since she was reluctant to kill the Kid’s father. She wasn’t sure how she could look Trix in the eye when she asked where Dan was if she was the one who had decapitated him. 

“You were right, Maze,” Lucifer muttered when she was almost out the door, his voice soft and gentle as a caress across her senses, such a sharp contrast to what he had been moments before that she spun to look at him. His posture radiated defeat, though she hadn’t yet failed him.

“About?” she asked mirroring his tone. He smiled sadly at her, his eyes showing his age in their weariness. 

“Feelings suck,” he said with a sardonic laugh. She nodded in agreement, not knowing what to say, and disappeared back into the shadows to prepare for her newest hunt.


	23. W is for warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes she forgets just how warm he is. It's almost as if the hellfire that sometimes lights his eyes lives under his skin.

Sometimes she forgets just how warm he is. It's almost as if the hellfire that sometimes lights his eyes lives under his skin. She has often found that warmth comforting, a sign of his presence beside her, even when they weren’t touching. The support of his hand in the small of her back at a crime scene, radiating warmth and steadiness and giving her strength when her own faltered. But tonight, his warmth isn’t comforting. It’s scorching. 

Trixie had gone to her room, wanting to look at the stars he had made for her while she did her homework and Lucifer had taken her exit as an invitation to drop the mask he’d been wearing all evening. The smile he’d pasted in place most of the day, that didn’t come anywhere near his eyes and looked more like a grimace, fell away and he’d taken to scowling at the fireplace. 

“Are you okay?” Chloe asked, knowing before she did that he wasn’t going to answer, as he hadn't answered all evening and was surprised by his snort and curt response of, “decidedly not.” She nodded slowly, unsure of where to go next since she hadn’t expected an answer. She knew that he was tense, in part, because of their odd interaction with the two young women in the parked car outside Trixie’s school this evening. The same two women that had been suspiciously in many of the same places as they had been in most of the day. Only the proximity of witnesses and her hand on his arm had stopped him from confronting them then and there and he’d been quietly seething ever since. She almost wished he would just vent so that they could get past it. Even if it meant him telling her off for attempting to control the Devil, a being older than time and terrifyingly powerful as his show with making Trixie's stars had reminded her.

But she didn't fear him; this fallen archangel who could end her with little more than a thought. No. Because he was also unbelievably gentle and devoted to her. Even if he raged, it would only help him to say what he wanted, a flash fire of anger that wouldn't last long enough to burn her but would leave calm and warmth in its place. So she made the offer, knowing that she was likely to receive a tirade in response. 

“Do you … do you want to talk about it?” she hazarded, wondering when he looked up at her, eyes flashing with hellfire if it wouldn’t've be better if she hadn't. 

“About what, Detective?” he snapped, and she winced. He hadn’t used her title as her name in private since they’d begun dating. At home it was always “darling” or “love” or some other pet name or, on rare occasions, her name. At work and when speaking of her he often called her by her title but not when it was just them. The choice, and the distance it implied, rankled.

“About why you’re upset,” she clarified, deciding that she had already started the conversation, he was actually answering and now they just needed to get the argument that was coming over with so that they could move past it. The direct approach was probably best. “About why you’re mad. At me. For asking you not to confront the women. For holding you back.” _Again,_ she finished silently. 

“I’m not angry with you, Darling,” Lucifer said, his expression both hurt, shocked, and sincere. “I’m concerned. Those women … they were not following us for anything good, Love. You know that. I know that. And I didn't want to … we had the child with us and I didn't wish to frighten her and … I just … why hasn’t Mazikeen found him yet?” he snapped, moving lithely to his feet, running his hands through his hair and beginning to pace the living room agitatedly. “It’s not like the douche is smart enough to avoid her. Not on his own. And running to Mexico. No, that wasn’t his plan either. There is someone else orchestrating this, Chloe. Daniel is many things, conniving is not one of them. The restraining order, that was likely him in a final act of foolish desperation, but making bail and running for it, concealing his escape route from _Maze_ ; no, someone else is directing his actions. Someone far more devious than Detective Douche.” 

“So, you think the women following us have something to do with whoever is guiding Dan?” Chloe asked softly, wondering why it hadn’t occurred to her that the women following them might be connected to Dan. _Probably because they were following you and Lucifer and not Trixie_ , her mind supplied. 

“I don’t know,” he groaned, running his fingers roughly through his hair. “They could. Likely do, even. Though why they would be surveilling _us_ I do not know. His target has always been Beatrice. Not us. It’s more likely that they probably weren’t following us. Why would they be? It's possible that I'm being paranoid. It wouldn't be the first time, though it would be the first time a normal human was the cause. I just … I should have had Mazikeen kill him in Mexico.” 

“You’d’ve regretted it,” Chloe said with a sigh, rising and wrapping her arms around his waist, feeling like she was embracing an inferno, his normal warmth raging due to his temper. She wondered just how close he was to his pristine skin becoming blotched with crimson as his self-flagellation for not instantly fixing this for them tortured him. His eyes were still brown rather than red, so she figured he was in better control than his temperature suggested.

“Doubtful,” he scoffed, unable to see a scenario where he would regret ordering the killing of the man who had caused them so much anguish. He felt her laugh silently against him before she shook her head.

“You would have,” she repeated, looking up at him with certainty in her blue eyes. "As much as you want to play the avenging Devil card, and as little as you care for Dan--understandibly--the first time Trixie asked where her daddy was and you had to admit that you’d had him killed, because we both know that you don’t lie . . . It would have gutted you. And there’s no real way to deflect that one, Lucifer. You wouldn’t be able to tell her that you didn’t know, because Maze is sure to tell you where the body is and you are fairly certain of where his soul will end up, aren’t you?” He gave a non-committal hum and shifted uncomfortably at the idea of the look of horror and revulsion that would surely overtake the Child’s face at his answer. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t read between the lines better than most adults. Even if he refused to answer, she would detect his discomfort. She would know, even had he attempted to deflect and obfuscate. Yes, Beatrice Espinosa would know that he was responsible for her father's death. And she would loathe him for it. He suddenly found himself hoping that Maze’s reticence to kill the douche had endured and that her prolonged search hadn't made her want to kill him just for the inconvenience.

“You may be right, Love,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her hair and wrapping his arms around her as he tried to conceal his distaste for how things were likely to play out. If only for her benefit. A glance at her face in the mirror over the mantel revealed that he had failed. She wasn't fooled by his projected calm. She was eying him suspiciously as her arms tightened around him and she spoke.

“I usually am,” she said with a laugh. “I think I would have regretted it too. As frustrated as I am with him still being on the loose, I’m a little glad that I’ve had time to cool off before Maze brought him back to us. I … I don’t think I actually want him dead, Lucifer. And if she'd caught him too quick we might have done something we'd both regret.

"I … I’m still mad," she continued slowly, as if treading thin ice and testing each step to prevent crashing through to the icy depths below. "And I’m still hurt and … and I don’t want him to be able to hurt me. Or Trixie. Or you. Never again but . . . I need to be able to look my daughter in the face and not hope daily that she doesn’t realize I sanctioned--hell, _requested_ \--her father’s death. I … I don’t know that I could live with myself, Lucifer. Not if you had Maze kill him at my request. Even if it never bothered you, which I still think it would, it would bother me. I …” she trailed off, guilt wafting off of her in waves that twisted his soul uncomfortably. It was the kind of guilt that would damn her if allowed to come to fruition. It couldn't. He wouldn't let it.

“I need to make a call, darling,” he said suddenly, breaking their hug and nudging her a little roughly towards the balcony. “Why don’t you go pour yourself a glass of wine and meet me by the pool? Yes? I won’t be but a moment.” She nodded, suspecting that the call would be to Maze but unwilling to ask and have her suspicions that he had gone ahead and ordered Dan’s death confirmed.

While she knew that he had passed divine judgment in the past, and executed it as he saw fit and that he _had_ killed for her before and it wasn't her place to judge, she didn't want to know if he was willing to kill someone he knew well and once possibly liked because she asked that a threat be eliminated. True, it was his desire to have them safe as well, but she knew he hated himself when he had to take a life. Even one he only knew peripherally. Killing Dan, even if Trixie never found out, he would hate himself for it. And it was very likely he'd ordered it. Because she'd asked him to find a way Dan could never hurt them again. And death would be a permanent solution.

But she didn't know for sure and she didn't want to. She knew it was wrong to refuse to examine it, but she didn't _want_ to know if she actually wielded that much influence over him. That he would do something not just to his detriment but against his entire being ( against the _one_ commandment he'd followed for millenia) just because she expressed a desire. While most of her knew it was true, he would always put her interests above his own as much as she wished he was a bit more selfish sometimes; no mortal should know with _absolute_ certainty that they could command the Devil, one of the most powerful beings in the universe. It was too much power for one human. Miracle or not. 

So she poured a glass of wine. Went to the balcony and tried to focus on anything but the soft timbre of his voice. Closing the door had done its job. Sort of. She couldn't hear the actual words, but the frantic edge cemented it; the actual Devil would cater to her every whim. She suddenly felt very cold. Even the burn of the wine sliding down her throat to her empty stomach did nothing to warm the chill that settled in her soul. 

* * *

As soon as he was certain that she was out of earshot, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Mazikeen. It rang repeatedly before going to her voicemail. He hung up with an angry huff and repeated the call with the same result. It was only on the third attempt, when it went straight to voicemail, that he left her a message. 

“Mazikeen, my previous offer requires an adjustment,” he said, desperation for her to receive the message before she killed Daniel clipping his words. “I know that his bounty is for dead or alive and I will pay you triple _not_ to kill him. Bring him in alive, injured if must be but still breathing. It is imperative that you adhere to this request, Maze. Do not fail me.” Urgency caused him to type his message into a text that he sent her before deleting the conversation. He could only hope that she read or listened to it before she did something that couldn’t be undone. 

Trying to force those thoughts from his mind, he went to the balcony where Chloe waited for him, the setting sun reflecting in her blonde hair and making it almost orange. Her expression in the fading light of the sun was pinched and her smile failed to reach her eyes doing little to quiet the fear coiling in his stomach that he was too late to save Daniel and, by extension, her. He sat next to her, an uncomfortable feeling that Daniel’s death was an immutable fact--even beyond his mortality--giving the inevitably tragic end to their relationship infinitely more tragic. The fatalistic edge he often tried to ignore, glaring like a neon sign in his mind. Her warm breath ghosting through his shirt, the beat of her all too mortal heart (things that normally brought him comfort) this evening, they were like an ever tightening vice around his chest. Each beat and breath one more closer to her last. And because of his rash, vengeful behavior it was now likely that that last beat would send her somewhere she had no business being and even on his most selfish nights he had never wanted her to go; hell. 

He held her more tightly, allowing her living warmth to soak into him, committing the moment to memory for the times after she had gone cold. She melted into him, but it wasn’t enough. As his hand brushed along her arm, chilled from the evening air, images of her dead and cold assaulted his mind and before he could stop them, his wings materialzed and covered her as they had a few nights ago as though they could block death itself. She snuggled into him, humming contentedly before looking up at him, smiling softly.

“While I don’t mind, what caused this?” she asked, running a finger through the downy feathers on the inside edge of his wing. 

“You were cold,” he said simply. A truth if not the whole truth. She was appeased and sank back into him with a quiet mutter of thanks. As warmth overtook the chill on her skin he pushed the images from his mind. He had to hope that Maze got his messages before she killed Daniel. While he wouldn’t mourn Daniel, he was now certain of what he had only suspected; Chloe was his Dad’s way of hurting his soul. Seeing her in Hell, dragged down by her guilt over _his_ choices and actions, there was nothing in the multiverse that could break him as completely. 

* * *

“What do you mean there was nothing?” Lisa demanded of Sisters Sarah and Lilah. “There had to have been something. You’ve followed them for two days!” 

“The woman likes coffee,” Lilah said with a shrug. “Some caramel low fat thing. If you can call that coffee.”

“And Morningstar is a glutton,” Sarah said with a faint laugh. “That might be supernatural. I don’t know how else he can eat so much and stay so fit. And he is hopelessly devoted to her. Hangs on her every word. Looks at her like she’s perfect. And some of his suggestions ... “ Sarah trailed off blushing. “Maybe Brother Dan’s just jealous? I probably would be. Rich, handsome, devoted, and--: she cut off clearing her throat. “Brother Dan isn’t really in the same league, if you catch my drift.”

“Then how do you explain our losses in Mexico?” Lisa snapped. “Multiple bodies _literally_ ripped apart by a single woman and a dog whose mouth opened far too wide and appeared out of thin air? Or how Morningstar and Trixie made it all the way to central Mexico from Sonora in seconds? Verified by timestamp on our video and the airport? No. He's not just some rich, devoted eccentric. There is something . . . unholy going on involving Morningstar and the woman. He's either the Devil, as Brother Dan claims, or a powerful demon. You’ll just need to follow them for longer until you uncover actual proof.”

“You’ll have to send someone else,” Lilah said, shifting nervously at the memory of Morningstar’s glare when he’d spotted them at the school. “They made us. But they’re cops. They know what to look for in tails. We’re going to have to be smarter. Different people throughout the day. It wasn’t until the end of the day that they figured it out but we won’t be able to follow them again without being confronted.” 

“Then so be it,” Lisa agreed. “Tell Mathew to put Brother Sam and Sister Laura on it tomorrow. You two will come to the cabin with me in their place. Dan thinks that the demon will be getting close soon and we need to be there to give her a warm reception.” They nodded and followed her to the van, feeling excitement course through their veins at the prospect of getting to serve God and combat an actual demon from hell rather than tail a cop and her charming partner who might be the devil around L.A.. 

* * *

Maze stalked through the woods, intent on her prey. The kid liked to call them ninja skills but ninjas didn't have shit on her. Not with reflexes and senses honed from ages surviving in the pits of hell. No, the douche would have been better off if she'd just been a ninja. Then he might have stood a chance. As she neared the cabin she was nearly 100% certain he was in, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it. It was probably a telemarketer anyway. There was a special circle in Hell for them, or would be when she got back. 

Immediately after it stopped, it buzzed again. She pulled it angrily from her pocket, glancing at the screen and seeing Lucifer’s name. Impatient bastard probably wanted to know why she hadn’t completed the job yet. With an disgusted sigh, she held down the power button until the screen went blank. She had more important things to worry about than Lucifer’s impatience; like not getting shot. Odds were 90 to nothing that Dan had a gun. Land he was trained to use it.

No. She needed to focus, not worry about if Lucifer was going to keep buzzing her pocket. She took a deep breath to steel herself before raising a foot and kicking in the front door, forcing down the warm feelings that tried to rise up at the sight of Dan standing in the entry waiting for her. 

“Took you long enough, Maze,” he said, his tone resigned and nothing akin to warmth in his eyes. 

“You’ll wish it had taken longer,” she said, stalking forward and pulling her knives from their sheaths as she tried to decide if double from Lucifer was worth killing someone she’d once considered a friend and robbing Trix of a worthless parent. She'd just have to see how it went.


	24. X is for Xenophobic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew he should be terrified as she stalked towards him, knives out and teeth bared, but he wasn't. He was oddly calm. If she did manage to kill him before they stopped her, at least a quick death here was better than a slow one in prison

He had known that he couldn't protect Trixie from Lucifer from the moment he had taken her. All she did was talk about what he or Maze had said or taught her. A roadside gas station had been selling a sword. She'd looked at it for a while and he was expecting to have to tell her that she wasn't allowed to have one but she'd scoffed in a way that reminded him uncomfortably of Lucifer and rolled her eyes so much like her mother that it made his heart ache. 

"What?" He asked, wondering just what she saw to elicit that reaction. He wished he'd have left it be. 

"They want too much," she said, a smirk reminiscent of the demon on her face. "That's a cast sword, not a forged one. It wouldn't stand a chance in a real battle. It would shatter." Before squealing shrilly and asking for an icee. He'd agreed shakily and had known in his heart that he'd done the right thing. After all, what normal child could tell just from looking at a sword if it would hold up in battle. Shit, even he didn't know that and he was an adult. No, demons were not appropriate babysitter no matter what Chloe, Lucifer or Ella thought. 

The bubbly forensic scientist had been uncharistically serious when he'd approached her a few days after he'd met with Linda and contacted Lisa. Some of what Lisa was saying didn't sit well with him. I mean, Lucifer didn't seem interested in souls, not really. Actually all he seemed interested in was a good time. And he'd never done anything that seemed apocalypse worthy. Hell, he didn't even seem all that powerful. Just bulletproof. And then only sometimes. The image of the Devil pacing, bleeding and ranting struck him. Why did he only bleed sometimes? Something about a miracle? It didn't make sense to him, nor did Lucifer, really. So he turned to Ella, the only other religious person he knew that _believed_ and knew Lucifer.

He met her for drinks. She walked in to the bar, took one look at him and nodded.

"So you know," she said. It wasn't a question. It was more like she could see the knowledge stamped on his forehead,a giant beacon that said he knew the Devil and he was fucking his ex-wife.

"So _you_ know? The thing that I'm supposed to know?" He asked, not wanting to assume anything with her and her tendency towards nonsequetors. 

"That Lucifer's _Lucifer,"_ she clarified. "Satan. The king of Hell. The fallen archangel. You know." He nodded, feeling nauseous. "Welcome to the club. We have tshirts." He looked at her incredulously and she laughed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "Not really," she said. "Though there is a fee."

"My soul?" He asked, suddenly terrified.

"God! No!" She said before looking up and whispering an apology. "No. New initiate buys the first two rounds. Or at least that's what Maze, Linda and Chloe said the first Tribe Night after I found out. Made the Blood Bond easier. Being drunk. But we won't do that. I'll save that for Maze. Blood oaths have more significance to demons than humans and I'm not sure I'm authorized to initiate it." He blinked at her a moment before he managed to find words.

"You … you went out _drinking_ with Maze. Knowing she's a demon?" He managed, impressed when his voice only broke once.

"You gave to admit, it does make her make more sense," Ella said with a shrug. "And Lucifer. The whole "what do you desire" thing. It explains why it always works. And his alcohol tolerance. And his lack of fear of STI's and his lack of even basic self-preservation skills. Actually they both make _way_ more sense when you _know_ , you know?"

"I-it doesn't _worry_ you? " he insisted. "That they're from hell?"

"Nah," Ella replied, taking a swing from her beer. "I'm not particularly xenophobic. I mean, would you be this worked up if they were from Mars? Or heaven? Because _technically_ Lucifer's from heaven. Did you know that he made the stars? Like all of them? And he can teleport. And have you seen his wings? The feathers, so pretty and better than valium and let me tell you, I've had some good drugs in my day." As Ella continued expounding on Lucifer and Maze's "good" qualities, he tuned her out. Ella may be saying that Lucifer was good, but she'd just confirmed what Lisa had implied; Lucifer was dangerous. He could teleport, make stars and by his own admission had warred with God himself. Lisa was right. Lucifer had to be stopped and Trixie saved. 

So they ran. To Mexico and a home owned by the Militibus. He knew it wouldn't be far enough--no where would be if _he_ wanted to find them--but with nothing to connect the house to him and nothing traceable on them, he hoped it would be enough. Sister Maria seemed sure. She said the property was warded against evil as long as no one invited it in, the last said with a pointed look at Trixie. They had wanted to attempt an exorcism on her, drive out the evil influence of the Devil and purify her soul.

He refused. He'd seen the result of one of their other exorcisms; James Marshall's corpse was burned forever into his memory. Trixie would not be next. He didn't save her from Lucifer just to let Sister Maria torture her. 

"Just wait," she'd snarled. "That girl will bring us nothing but trouble and you'll _wish_ you'd let me cleanse her soul." He'd dismissed her predictions as pessimism but she'd been right. Trixie had invited Lucifer in, just as Maria had warned. Dan had hoped that by leaving, Lucifer's wrath would follow him and spare his Sisters and Brother. He should have known better. His demon and hellhound had killed the entire group. 

And then they came for him. The hound with its snout covered in the blood of his brethren, gaping mouth filled with serrated teeth and eyes as red as it's master, stalking towards him with a growl that resonated in his chest and shook the ground below his feet. As it lunged, a single command from Maze froze it. 

"Lucifer wants him alive," she said, surveying him coldly, inhumanely detached, before grabbing him and trying his hands with zip ties. He struggled but it didn't matter. She was stronger than she had any right to be and he may as well have been a mouse fighting a cat. He was never going to win.

Still he tried. Even as they teleported to a dungeon--a sex dungeon by the look of it--and she cut the zip ties and bound him to an X. The leather chafed as he fought to be free, even as Lucifer and Chloe took over. 

The hatred in his ex-wife's eyes hurt more than her punches. He felt hope for her soul when she called a stop to her participation in the Devil's idea of justice. Though he does have to admit he felt shock at Lucifer's obvious relief when she refused to continue torturing him. Why would the Devil be pleased? Unless he had something worse in store than what Chloe was capable of.

He did.

Maze returned, looking at him with that same, oddly flat expression before saying, "just business Dan. Stealing from us can't go unpunished. Don't worry. You'll live."

He wasn't sure how long it lasted, but soon the promise that he'd live was not a comforting one. He now didn't doubt her claim of being Hell's best torturer. He couldn't imagine worse pain was possible. And just when he'd think it was over, she'd touch him with a feather and everything but the memory of pain would vanish only to start again. She was cool, clinical and precise. And never did her flat mask change. Not until she untied him, healed him one final time and lifted him into arms that were deceptively gentle, teleporting him back to Mexico and the _federales_ with no evidence of what she'd done to him in that dungeon except his memories.

Memories that cemented his belief that Trixie needed to be protected at all costs. Even if he had to endure what she'd done to him for the rest of eternity, he would protect his child. After all, she was stuck on Earth and she was the best. He'd survived her, he could endure what the second-best could dish out. Right? But Trixie needed to be protected.

So he talked. And kept talking and finally someone listened, filing the emergency order of protection and removing Trixie from their care. It wasn't permanent but it at least forced the issue of their fitness and allowed him a chance to fight for her. His attorney filed a motion to have Lucifer barred from the courtroom but it was denied; apparently he had to be given the right to defend himself. But the judge was older and had worked her way up from nothing. She was known to throw the book at affluent people who neglected their children. She was perfect to resist Lucifer's "charms."

Or not. She, too, fell prey to the charms of the Devil and sealed Trixie's fate. He couldn't control himself as his last hope for his daughter went up in smoke. Especially when Lucifer managed to get a message to him in jail; interfere again in their lives and it will be the last time. The messenger died soon after, seemingly of natural causes, and with him all evidence of Lucifer threat was gone. 

He knew the warning to be true but he also knew that he couldn't stop the Devil from corupting Trixie from behind bars and that Lucifer had enough contacts to ensure that he remained there. Or worse. So when the Militibus ex Deo agreed to bail him out, he did exactly as they told him; he adhered to the court’s orders until the pressure died down a bit, the patrols that the precinct ordered on Chloe's behalf became less frequent. Only then did he signal Lisa that he was ready.

When she gave him the greenlight, he cut his ankle bracelet and ran with Sister Laura. It didn’t seem that Chloe and Lucifer knew that he was out--since he hadn't received and infernal visits--but he knew that as soon as he cut the monitor they would be notified. He and Sister Laura would have to be fast if they were going to get away from the Devil for any length of time. But the ultimate goal wasn’t escape. Not really. Lisa wanted him to run just far enough to be difficult to find. He was bait for Maze, or Lucifer himself if the devil felt that the matter now needed his personal attention.

They needed it to Maze or Lucifer that found him, not just any bounty hunter. To make it difficult enough that it would be certain to be her, he traded his phone for a burner but periodically bought things with his card or visited places he knew were monitored to leave a faint trail. All leading to here: a secluded cabin in the woods owned by the Militibus ex Deo, where they waited for the demon to show up and spring the trap they had set.

As the days stretched on, he wondered if he was doing the right thing, luring Maze. They'd once been allies if not friends. And the image of James Marshall's body continued to haunt his dreams. But then he'd remember the agony she'd put him through, a phantom ache that haunted hisdayswith flashes. In those moments he'd leave her another bread crumb to follow, wondering if he'd have to witness her exorcism when she followed his trail and showed up. And show up she did, slinking through the shadows with vengeance burning in her eyes.

He knew he should be terrified as she stalked towards him, knives out and teeth bared, but he wasn't. He was oddly calm. If she did manage to kill him before they stopped her, at least a quick death here was better than a slow one in prison, knowing he'd been too much of a coward to try to save his daughter from evil. But his death was unlikely. 

There were sixteen trained operatives in the rooms off the hall. Those were long odds for her, demon or not. He backed down the hall keeping his eyes on her rather than allowing them to flick to the doors concealing the Militibus. He needed her to come further down the hall to lead her into the waiting trap. Every step she took, he tried to relax, hoping she didn't detect the trap and run. But she was only focused on him, oblivious to everything else.

"You made some bad choices, Dan," she was saying, taunting him and making what was to come for her easier for him to rationalize. She was a demon. Even if they’d had good times together, she was literally hellspawned, soulless. Evil. 

"Threatening Chloe,” she continued. “Kidnapping Trixie. Twice. Ignoring the warning that Fluffy and I gave you. The one Lucifer sent in jail. Jumping bail. Hell, you were lucky that you were alive to jump bail. Lucky that Lucifer’s gone soft and didn’t skin you alive in Mexico, or have me do it when we brought you back to L.A. or that he felt it would be a stain on _whatever_ if you were to die in custody. But,” she stopped and chuckled, “you’ve really pissed him off now, Dan. The LAPD wants you back. Bad. Did you know that you’re worth almost three-quarters of a million dollars to them? But Lucifer, he wants you _gone_. He promised me double if you disappear. Payable on proof of death."

"So you're going for double?" He asked knowing that it would be her answer. Of course she would. She was a demon and a mercenary. Money and violence was all that she could understand. Their maybe friendship meant nothing to her. She's proved that when she tortured him. It shouldn’t mean anything to him. Closing his eyes, he let out a whistle. Before she could react, six members of the Militibus ex Deo sprang into the hall and grabbed her. 

Maze in a no-holds-barred fight was a sight to behold. Her knives seemed like an extension of her arm rather than a weapon as she slashed through air and flesh alike, maiming more than one of her assailants. She had almost subdued the first wave when the second spring into action. For a moment it looked like she would hold her own against them too, but one managed to put a stamp on her hand. She sneered at her, licking the ink and mixing to wipe it in her pants but then Lisa started chanting. 

Suddenly Maze was writhing on the ground, screaming as the stamp glowed gold. It was a sound he'd never known her to make, didn't know that she _could_ make. It was inhuman. Multitonal and guttural. In that moment he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, even more than all the other proof, this solidified it; Maze was a demon.

After a moment, the screaming stopped as she gained enough of herself to claw at the mark, her nails leaving rivulets of blood in her own skin but leaving the now burned-in golden mark pristine. She let out a feral shriek as another mark was stamped on her bare shoulder, black ink instantly shifting to gold and searing in with a smell of burnt flesh that made Dan nauseous and Maze writhe in agony, though she remained silent, trying to crawl towards him, something akin to betrayal in her dark eyes.

A third stamp stopped her forward motion and the screams began again. The sounds turned Dan’s stomach and he almost started forward to beg them to stop only to catch sight of her face; half of it had rotted away, teeth and bone visible beneath decayed skin and when her eyes opened, searching for a way out, the right was milky. Blind.

As words began falling from her mouth in a language that was clearly not human, fear overrode any affection he may have held for Maze the bounty hunter. In its place was loathing for Mazikeen the Demon, “hell’s finest torturer” Lucifer had called her. And Dan himself could attest to her skills. She didn’t deserve mercy. She hadn’t shown him any. She deserved this.

When the frenzied motion changed to slow sensuous movements and the scream to quiet sobs, the chanting stopped and the Militibus ex Deo moved in, binding her hands behind her with ropes that sizzled and caused her to hiss in a breath, the exhale a shaking moan. He came towards her, brushing her hair from her sweaty face, revealing that she was regaining control. While half of it was flickering between smooth and melted, the right eye between brown and milky, it was remaining smooth longer between the flickers. 

“Don’t touch me, _traitor_ ,” She snarled at him before contorting in their hold and kicking him hard in the chest and gut with both feet. Even weakened, she still kicked like a mule and he went down.

Something sharp pierced his gut with her kick and he pulled it out on instinct before he remembered that was the exact _wrong_ thing to do. His blood pulsed warm and sticky and _entirely too_ fast from the puncture wound in his abdomen. He threw a hand over the wound that did nothing to slow the bright red pulsating blood continuing to pour from his gut. His analytical mind whispered that she'd punctured an artery and he was going to die. Quickly. 

He knew that he should be terrified of dying, but the strange calm from earlier persisted. He had given his life for a good cause. He hadn’t died for nothing. At least he died defending the world from the Devil. From evil. Lisa knelt beside him, her fingers probing the wound clinically before she shook her head, looking at him sadly. 

"The world thanks you for your sacrifice, Brother Daniel," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Go in peace to paradise. I will stay with you until the end. It won’t be long now and Michael will welcome you into the Kingdom of Heaven with open arms." He smiled up at her before glancing at Maze. Her face was a mask of horror, rage and something akin to regret. 

"You stupid backstabbing _bastard,_ Dan," she muttered, looking away with what almost looked like shame. "I may be from Hell, but I wasn't going to take him up on his offer. I didn't want to kill you and hurt Trix that way. I was just going to turn you in. We were fr--" A brief burst of chanting, her arching in pain, mouth open in a silent scream before a cloth gag was forced in and tied tightly enough to draw blood at the corners of her mouth.

"Silence, _demon_ ," Lisa snarled. "You will not tempt him to Hell on his deathbed. Take it away. It will pay for your death, our other losses and its many sins, Brother. You have earned your place in Heaven." As he watched the regret and pain and even fear flicker in Maze's eyes as she was dragged away, he found he couldn't look at her, suddenly uncomfortable with what he had done. She actually seemed upset that he was dying. Lisa said demons couldn’t feel regret but it had been there. And she said she hadn’t wanted to kill him. But she had killed him on purpose, hadn’t she? Through his dimming vision he looked down at his hand, at what had stabbed and ultimately killed him. 

A stiletto shoe heel, broken off from the force of her kick. It had been an accident. She hadn't tried to kill him, only to protect herself. His sight dimmed and his limbs grew heavy, even breathing was a struggle. Lisa released his hand and he heard her footsteps walk away. He heard a muffled scream, Maze's, and the thud of fists against flesh. He felt doubt that he had done the right thing and guilt over betraying someone who considered him a friend enter his mind and the world faded to black. 

The next thing he knew, he was guiding Trixie to his car while Lucifer, Maze and Chloe watched from the porch. He'd earned a do-over. As he again led Trixie to Mexico, this time with a side-by-side of Chloe's suffering (information he had no access to so how could he see it) he realized it wasn't a do-over after all. As he watched the mother of his child howl in grief, he knew; this was hell. 


	25. Y is for yearning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes he yearns, the ache in his chest so powerful it steals his breath. Longing for things that are his no longer.

There had been no news from Mazikeen. And try as he might, Lucifer could no longer mask his discomfort with her silence. His temper was growing short, dangerously short. He had even snipped at Chloe over something insignificant. The flash of pain in her blue eyes before it gave way to understanding felt like she’d plunged her hand into his chest and wrapped her fist around his heart. 

“I’m worried about her too,” she’d said softly. “Would you like some space? Trixie and I could go out, or…” He’d shaken his head. He had no desire for them to expose themselves needlessly to danger. Not when he could achieve solitude with a mere thought if he wished it, while leaving them in safety. Which he didn’t, not enough to risk it. With Mazikeen MIA, more than even he was unwilling to allow his humans to leave his sight. Anything that could trouble Maze would be more than a match for Chloe and her child, formidable though they both may be. 

“Come, Love,” he replied instead, offering her his hand and leading her to their room. She only gave a brief show of resistance before following him willingly, the hand that wasn’t in his tracing casual swirls up his shirt sleeve until it reached the buttons down the middle, toying with one. 

“While I’m willing to distract you and could use the distraction myself, Trixie’s still awake, Lucifer,” she reminded him softly, knowing that he was not subtle in his pleasures, even as she leaned into his touch and smiled at the promise of what might come. He surprised himself when, rather than take her up on what was clearly an offer--though where was the fun in restrained sex that wasn’t a game--he picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to the knuckles before grinning. 

“Naughty, naughty, Darling. That wasn’t what I was suggesting at all. Debauchery in a house with a conscious child. Shame on you,” he smirked, his eyes and tone revealing it to be a jest. “No, I was thinking of something much more wholesome. I thought you might join me for a drink and a soak in the hot tub. Hence the need to go and get a bathing suit. Unless you are suddenly agreeable to casual nudity? In other cultures--”

“No, no,” she cut him off. “No casual nudity. In this one it’ll get us both in trouble for indecency. Swim suits are a must. But that is a nice idea. Trixie, monkey, do you want to go for a swim?” He didn’t even flinch, now accustomed to her shrillness, when the child shrieked and darted to her own room to put on a suit. Her carefree excitement made him smile as he and Chloe changed into their own and made their way to the pool. 

As he settled into the warm water, listening to Chloe and the child splash and laugh in the main pool, looking up at his stars, he couldn’t help but remember a time when things were simpler for him as well. While he had no desire to go back to being a sycophantic follower of his Father’s every whim, it had been almost nice to not know that it was all a game in which he was hundreds of steps behind. Desire had always been his and perhaps had it only remained desire things would have turned out differently. But when it had morphed into yearning, an ache in his chest so deep it had stolen his breath and shocked him, then desire and pride had truly been his downfall. And despite what it had cost him, he’d learned nothing. 

  
  


The first time he could remember the feeling of yearning--of having his own desires--was as his Father was explaining to him His idea of gifting humanity, the new creation He was designing, with free will. Samael had been confused. Free will was such a foreign concept that at first he couldn’t even comprehend it; the idea of  _ choosing _ what to do, how to feel, of having control of self. But the more he tried to understand it--as Father assured him that he would--the more something in his very soul latched on to the idea. He was the Will of the Demiurge. Why should he, who had mastery of creation or destruction of everything else, not have mastery of himself. Michael dismissed his preoccupation as foolishness. 

_ “ _ You are The Will, Samael,” Michael reminded him. “The Will to shape The Power granted to me towards Father’s vision of reality. Why are you so eager for something less than you already are? You are Will. This free will Father is giving the humans, this control over just themselves, it has nothing on you. If you wish it, it is with no limitations. You can control everything in the multiverse as Father sees fit. Humans lack that ability. Put it from your mind. Father has given you nearly as much power as He has. You can have anything you desire that He will allow. Why do you covet the scraps He is giving to humanity?”  __

But Michael’s words had the opposite effect he’d intended. Rather than soothe his desire for free will, they cemented it. Because Michael was right; he was The Will. Anything he wished could be true if Father would allow it. And he wished for free will. But his Father would not allow him this. He would not allow him to make his own choices. Why? Was not he more deserving than mortals? More discerning? Wiser? Had he not made the stars? Set into motion the very workings of the universe from the raw materials provided by his twin? The thoughts swirled in his mind, poisoning his pleasure at even the things he had once enjoyed. Music, his favorite way to praise Father, felt hollow and sounded dissonant. The words ash on his tongue until they would come no more, the language of praise mandating truth and stopping the words he no longer felt from rising up his throat. 

That day he flew out to the bare plains around the Silver City. He knew that talking with Father would be useless and what Michael had said had reverberated within his skull until it had morphed into an idea. Father had given him the ability to will all mater in the multiverse into form. Father had granted him nearly the same powers He, Himself, possessed. Perhaps he could will himself to have Free Will. He crouched down, placed one of his hands over his heart and the other on his head and tried to will himself the rights to free will. No sooner had he released his will than the ground below him began to tremble and heave, the very walls of the Silver City shaking and crumbling with the force of the rolling in the firmament. 

He crouched down in fear, gripping the ground and praying to Father to make it stop. He could hear the screams of pain and terror from his brothers and sisters, both with his ears and his mind, their collective link flooded with agony and panic. It only fed his own fears and he raised his own voice, trying to appease his Father, begging his siblings and Father to forgive him and sending his Will into the ground itself in an attempt to stop the quake. Nothing worked. It was as if the realm itself was protesting his attempt to have something he wasn’t meant to have. And then the first voice snuffed out. Panic, agony, desperation and then nothing. Silence. Shock went through the collective mind followed by sorrow. Only his remorse and contrition provided variety in the silent horror. Even as they froze, silent and traumatized, the shaking grew more violent, as if enraged by the death of an immortal. Samael rose to his knees, gripped the ground tighter and tried to will it to stop, pouring all of his focus into the effort. He was reaching so deeply into himself that he was unaware he was no longer alone until a sting on his chin drew his attention. Michael stood before him, hatred and pain burning in his eyes, his sword under Samael’s chin, forcing his head up. As the ground rolled, the blade pierced him again, a small rivulet of blood flowing down the gleaming metal. 

Before he could ask what Michael was doing, he glanced up at his name. Samael pulled away from the blade and looked up to see Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael, Azrael and Raguiel descending from the sky, most of them with weapons drawn. They formed a circle around him, blades pointed towards him while Raphael hovered above, blocking an escape route into the sky.

“Peace!” Samael breathed, holding his empty hands aloft as they moved closer, their weapons making him wary with the way the ground continued to buck below them. It would be far too easy for them to injure him accidently, as Michael had done. None of them would ever harm him intentionally. Father would never will that and angels had no free will. That was what had started all of this, after all. 

“You will stop this attack on the Silver City, Samael,” Gabriel said, his voice harder than Samael had ever heard it. “Stop it willingly or we will force the issue.” Samael laughed nervously. Surely they didn’t think that he’d done this on purpose. That he would harm a sibling intentionally? He glanced from one face to the next and saw the same hard expression, except Azrael who would not meet his gaze.

“I --I would not,” he began only to be cut off. 

“Enough of us have been injured, Samael,” Raguiel said softly. “Do not sully this land with more violence. Please, stop your attack. Whatever it is that you hoped to accomplish will not come to pass. Stop the quaking.”

“I can not,” Samael pleaded. “I do not control this quake. Believe me, Brothers. I wish I could stop it. I have already tried but--”

“You are The Will,” Michael snapped, cutting him off with a scoff. “Your every desire is reality. If you wished it stopped it would be. Stop this quake before more of us die.” Samael struggled to his feet, reaching for his twin, imploring them to believe him.

“I’ve tried. I-” His words cut off in a scream as Uriel grabbed one of his wings and wrenched it, driving him back to his knees, the other wing fluttering with a barely restrained desire to attack his sibling and free himself from the pain. Instead he tried to grab Uriel with his hands only to have his second wing grabbed by Gabriel, stilling his motions. With him immobilized, Raphael dropped down beside them as well, joining the circle and forcing Azrael behind him. 

“You do not get to fly away from this, Samael,” Uriel said. “You have a habit of running from trouble but the pattern will not hold. You will stay here until you stop the quake. We know that you started it.”

“I did not mean to,” Samael started, letting out a sob as Uriel twisted it more, trying in vain to turn his body to grab his brother’s hand only to be stopped by Michael grabbing his wrist. .

“So, you admit that you did,” Raguiel said shaking his head, his grey eyes impassive--the angel of justice serving his role for the first time ever.

“No, Raguiel,” Samael implored, only for his pleas to fall on deaf ears, “This was not intentional. I swear it. I only wanted the ability to rule myself. To have free will. I was not trying to start a quake or attack the City. I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“Samael,” Raguiel said, tone devoid of emotion as he delivered his verdict, “for the crime of attacking the Silver City, leading a rebellion against our Father, you will be punished until such time as you stop the quake. If you wish your punishment to stop, then you must Will the shaking to stop. When you call an end to it, you will be sentenced for all the pain and suffering that results from your attack. I pass this judgement as ordained by Father as the Angel of Justice. My judgement is Word.”

“No, please!” Samael cried just as the first blow landed, he wasn’t sure which of his siblings had struck him as it came from behind, a bone in his wing shattering at the impact. His mind went white with the pain and when awareness came back, he was babbling, begging, “I would stop it if I could. I did not Will this on purpose. I attacked no one. Please. Help me stop it! Please stop.” As they ignored his pleas, he curled into a ball using his wings to protect him from their blows until his wings shattered, drooped and they began making contact with his body. The ground continued to roll and only one voice spoke out for him. Little Azrael, youngest of the archangels, pleading for them to have mercy and listen. They didn’t. He wondered how they could be so cruel to him, when they had always treated him with respect before, but didn’t have the breath to ask.

“Sam never lies,” she kept saying, growing more and more desperate until she was attempting to shield him physically, refusing to move despite their statements that if she sided with him she, too, was a traitor. He forced his battered body to shift and he instead covered her smaller frame with his larger one and protected her for her faith in him. As the beating continued, and the ground rolled and Azrael begged, he felt himself begin to drift.

As consciousness faded, and the ground stilled, he felt himself wondering if he hadn’t been successful after all. How else had Azrael had the ability to express such a glaring difference from their siblings, defending him as they vilified him? But then he began to return to himself and the physical pain of his injuries overwhelmed conscious thought, as it would during the trial and after the fall as well. As he lay alone, broken and terrified on the plains of Hell, his mind silent for the first time in his existence, he yearned for their voices, comfort, warmth. Even more than the pain in his body, his mind--his very soul--felt hollow, fragile. Alone. And he had little to cling to, the last memories of his time in the collective mind filled with anger, hatred and resentment directed at him. All except Azrael’s thoughts. Sorrow, pain, regret and faith were his last memories of her mind.

Faith. In him. In his honesty. It wasn’t true at the time. He had lied in the past about small things but after the farce of a trial and being cast down from the Silver City over someone elses misunderstanding of events it became a mantra.  _ Sam never lies.  _ Even as he cast off his name, became Lucifer, that was the one thing he kept. “Sam never lies” became “Lucifer never lies.” He would reward her trust in him. He had not told a lie since. Yearning to be worthy of her trust when he had been made to do so many terrible things.

No, yearning was not new to him. As overwhelming as he’d once believed it to be, his mind constantly flooded by the thoughts of his siblings, his ears filled with their voices, never a moment’s peace, he yearned for that noise that first age in Hell. He yearned for companionship, for a connection, to not be alone. And once it was provided by Lilith and her spawn and tortured human souls, he yearned again for silence. Perhaps his Father had been right. Even when given what he thought he wanted, he was never truly satisfied. He always yearned for something out of reach, ethereal and unobtainable. Unnamable. Unknowable. No matter how happy he thought he was, whatever new sensation he sought, there was something missing. 

Even once he came to Earth, with more money than even he could ever spend and charm to spare, able to have anything or anyone he wished with little more than a “come hither” look, the yearning never went away for long. Hearing his name spoken with reverence from a lover, or a few, their gratitude as he gave them everything they’d longed for, it filled the void for a time but it still wasn’t enough. Small favors became large ones. Solo sessions or three-ways became orgies. He opened Lux. Somewhere in his mind there was a belief that if a little was good more was better. Whisky, women, men, drugs, they helped quiet the yearning enough that he could ignore it. And more was better. Something was still missing, but he was content enough.

And then there was  _ her.  _ Her resistance to him awoke curiosity, yes, but also the yearning that he’d almost forgotten. Her resistance to his ability to draw out desires reminded him of the same thing that had started it all; free will. He hadn’t recognized it for what it was at first, thinking it to be idle curiosity, sexual attraction--she was attractive, after all, those legs!--or boredom with easy marks. It wasn’t until their case where they interviewed his lovers that he began to understand; despite all that he gave them, he didn’t matter. Only the favors did. Only what they got out of it. But she was different. 

She wasn’t with him for what he offered, for favors. He didn’t consider what he did for the department as favors to her. No. She was with him out of a desire for his company. For a connection. She was with him of her own free will. And wasn’t that a double-edged sword. Free will, the original desire--original sin, if you will--come back to haunt him in the guise of a pleasing woman. The enticing idea that she was with him because she wished it, only to discover that it was tainted because she was created for him. Preordained to be attracted to and attractive to him. Dad’s ultimate flip of the bird to Lucifer’s desire for free will. Almost as if Dad were saying,  _ See, Son, even a human can lack free will where you are concerned. _ Not that his Dad would say anything, no matter how Lucifer longed for an answer. 

But she insisted that she had free will, and everything suggested that it was true. She  _ chose _ him. Even as he caused her pain beyond what any should endure, she chose him. The ache that had been in his chest since nearly the beginning of time had faded over their acquaintance until only a phantom ache, a memory of pain remained. The yearning for free will was gone and he wondered, as he sat in their hot tub with her while the Urchin swam laps, if that hadn’t actually been what he was yearning for all this time. 

Perhaps that day that had shaken the very heavens he had managed to give himself free will. Perhaps the hostility his brothers had felt towards him, enough to make them willing to beat him until his bones shattered under their fists and feet, had been triggered by a sense of wrongness due to an archangel with the very powers of creation and destruction at his whim being able to decide for himself what to do with them. The heavens had shook in protest of his success rather than his audacity to try. After all, how else had he so perverted his Dad’s expectations of an archangel? His life has been anything but pure. He doubted Dear Old Dad planned drug addled orgies for him, after all. 

No, much like shame had been born in Eve and Adam as they ate from the tree, the birth of free will had awoken a deeper yearning in him. One for connection. A connection he could never have gotten from his siblings. A connection his Dad had crafted for him in the form of Chloe Decker and her daughter, a way to twist the knife just a bit further. To punish him for his yearning. As if Hell wasn’t bad enough. Again, he had everything he wanted, everything he yearned for, only to learn that he wanted more. 

Chloe had made him feel things from the very beginning. Things that he hadn’t felt in eons, things he yearned for from before the fall, knew after it as he lay in Hell that he would never have again and had thought he’d walled off. Warmth, companionship, trust. Without the lust and carnal desire he was accustomed to, or the fear and reverence from the demons in Hell. She was odd. Intriguing. Tempting. He wondered idly how she would feel knowing that she had tempted the Devil, and felt a small chuckle escape his chest, dying somewhere before his lips. But she had. She had tempted him, made him desire her. Made him yearn to please her, to protect her, to be loved by her. And years down the road, they did and they were. He’d gotten everything he’d thought he’d wanted, but he’d corrupted it. Like he always did. 

No matter what she said to the contrary, his very presence in her life had ruined it. Robbed Daniel of his sanity. Beatrice of her father. Chloe of her sense of security and safety. He hadn’t failed to notice that she now carried her firearm at all times outside of their home. That she watched every move of anyone that came within arms reach of the child. Had he not exposed Daniel to divinity, that would never have happened. And even though he knew it would be better for them, both now and forever, he could not bring himself to leave them. He was selfish. What they gave him, things he had yearned for for millenia, he couldn’t bring himself to give up easily. For everything they gave him so willingly only caused him to yearn for more. And maybe that was how they were able to trap him. After all, his Dad did know that yearning, even more than pride, was his true weakness. 

Now, he yearned for their safety with a depth of yearning he had never before known in all his existence. A desire that was likely to be unsatisfied. Even if he eliminated the threat of Daniel Espinosa and his allies, the guilt of it would damn Chloe. If he failed to eliminate Daniel and his associates, they would spend the rest of Chloe and Beatrice’s lives in fear of the next attack. It was bloody brilliant. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t, the perfect catch-22 orchestrated by the most manipulative bastard in the world. And he still hadn’t heard from Mazikeen. 

He tried her phone for the millionth time. No sign that she had read that text or the thousands before it. The calls were going straight to voicemail. It wasn’t like her to avoid him this long. Not when he had sent her on a job. The one night, he hadn’t been worried but this was becoming ridiculous. It was time to call her in a way that she could not ignore. Knowing that she would be furious and not caring in the least, he reached for their bond. He was shocked to feel her relief at his gentle nudge, followed closely by fear and something primal that he couldn’t name. With a sigh of relief that she was still alive--he hadn’t been worried, not really--he pulled. He felt her begin to come only for her to rebound. He tried it again with the same effect. 

This was not right. Nothing on Earth should be able to stop Mazikeen from answering his summons. But there was also no way that she could leave Earth on her own which meant that something was. And it wasn’t one of his siblings. At least not one powerful enough to trouble Mazikeen. He would have sensed their presence if it was. 

“Apologies, Love,” he said, rising from the hot tub and moving towards the house, “something has come up that requires my immediate attention.”

“Is it about, you know,” Chloe asked, her eyes crinkling with concern as she nudged her head towards her daughter before mouthing ‘Dan?’

“I do not believe so,” he replied. “I’ll be back in a bit. I just need to touch base with Mazikeen and she is requiring a face-to-face meeting.”

“Please don’t kill him,” Chloe whispered. “I know you don’t lie so you really think this isn’t about him, but if it is and she’s just being … Maze, please don’t kill him, Lucifer. Neither you nor I need that on our souls.”

“I won’t, Chloe, I promise,” he said, kneeling down to kiss her. Her pleased hum and contented smile warmed his heart. She, Beatrice, Ella and Azrael, the only beings in the universe that had absolute trust in his promises. And he would do anything to maintain it. He would see what was keeping Maze, keep the douche alive--if he still was--and reward their trust in the Devil. Which may have been what he actually yearned for all along. 

Once he was dressed, he felt once more for his bond with Mazikeen. This time, fear and desperation were the main emotions. But he wasn’t going to attempt to pull her this time. No, releasing his grip on the earthly plain, he pulled the bond and allowed himself to be moved towards her and whatever caused her to be unmovable. After all, other than Michael or Dad himself, there wasn’t much that could hope to best the Devil. 


	26. Z is for zealot part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She still feels a flutter in her chest when she thinks back to the zealot who believed the propaganda in the Bible and sought to send Lucifer back to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I divided this chapter in 2 because it was getting very long, there was a good break point and I wanted to get something out to you. I hope you all had safe and happy holidays.

She still feels a flutter in her chest when she thinks back to the zealot who believed the propaganda in the Bible and sought to send Lucifer back to hell. They called themselves the Militibus ex Deo, soldiers of God. And they’d never have gotten mixed up with them had Dan not been such a dumb ass. Or had she not left him to his own devices for too long after he  _ knew _ . But all that was left now was to pick up the pieces. Even though he wouldn’t talk about it--and she knew better than to try to force the issue--she knew that Lucifer and his Dad had had a falling out of literally biblical proportions, but she wondered if God would have condoned the actions that had been done in his name that day. 

As Lucifer materialized near the site of Mazikeen’s essence, he scanned the area with all of his senses. There was nothing of significance besides himself and Mazikeen. Nothing that should be able to bar her from his summons. Nothing that should be able to hold her for him to pull against to summon himself. None of it made sense. There was nothing here but a dilapidated warehouse. He was both piqued and intrigued by the situation. As well as faintly amused. Why was it always warehouses?

Even as he stood there surveying the area, he felt Mazikeen’s essence flicker against his senses. Almost as if she were being shielded from his detection. Or in danger of being extinguished. He shook his head, shaking aside the idea refusing to entertain it as more than an errant thought and made his way towards the building. Her essence flickered again and rage flooded him that she hadn’t attempted to contact him until the situation was dire. Did she not think that he would aid her? After everything they had been through together? While it was true that their relationship had been  _ strained _ by their time on Earth he would still have come to her aid. Another flicker, this one longer, her essence nearly going out before surging back and his steps sped into nearly a run. She wasn't shielded,she was dying. No way in Hell was anyone going to kill her other than him and then only at a time of his choosing. Not like this. He couldn’t lose her like this.

  
  


Lucifer stormed into the warehouse ripping the door from its hinges, well beyond subtlety at this point. His nose wrinkled as the smells of fear, sweat, blood, singed flesh and urine assault him. But the only humanoid scents were human, Maze and himself. No other angel or demon had been here. There was nothing that should be capable of dimming her essence, let alone nearly snuffing it out. There was a faint scent that niggled at the back of his mind, more a feeling in the air than an actual aroma but he couldn’t place it. But he knew that it wasn’t celestial or infernal. It was not a threat. With a sigh, he headed towards the stench, hoping against reason that Mazikeen wasn't the source.

As he came around a stack of crates, fury seared his veins, raw and primal, and he could feel his eyes begin to burn with the force of it. Mazikeen was bound to a  _ cross _ , of all things, still as clothed as Maze ever was. Unconscious from the looks of it, head lulling to a shoulder, livid bruises of varying shades and sizes maring her lovely skin. Sigals carved into her flesh, some steadily seeping blood explained one of the scents, brand marks explained others. Only the shallow, irregular rise of her chest and the fragile brush of her essence along their bond revealed her to be alive. 

He stalked forward intent on freeing Maze; unconcerned with any who might be in the warehouse. He was the Devil. Older than time, invincible and immortal to everything on the earthly plain save the Detective. He would rain literal hellfire down on those who had dared to touch what was his. And she was his, claimed and sworn. Gifted to him by the Mother of Demons at her birth. He might not be able to kill humans, but those responsible would learn that there were fates worse than death. And fairly liminal states between life and death. And when Mazikeen recovered sufficiently (which she would, he wouldn’t entertain another possibility) she could deal the final blow. 

As he drew nearer, he was surprised to learn that the other odors were coming from Maze as well. His fury increased tenfold until he was nearly incandescent with it, flames of rage flickering to life along his hands, their heat doing nothing to cool his rage that someone had dared to harm her,  _ his _ Mazikeen. As he crossed a red line on the floor he spared it a glance--a pentagram how droll--before her whimper drew his attention. The sound was like a dagger to his heart; Mazikeen of the Lillim did not whimper. Eons they had been together, and not always gently, and never once had he heard that. Whoever was responsible would pay for this. 

He forced down the fire and reached to brush her hair, matted with blood and sweat, from her face. But at the first brush of his fingers she flinched, trying to draw away and stand, too weak to do either. He pulled back, respecting her unspoken desire to remain untouched. As she turned her head, he saw that she had dropped her glamour. The smell of fear intensified and he realized that she didn't know it was him. Her good eye was swollen shut, her nose clearly broken, and only her blind eye opened, though not completely. He would have thought she could sense him but if she couldn't hold a simple glamor she was probably too weak. 

“Peace, Mazie,” he whispered, pressing his forehead gently to hers, hoping the familiar greeting would offer her comfort. “I’ll get you out of here. And then we’ll get vengeance.” She tried again to pull away, shaking her head rapidly, hoarse guttural sounds rising up her throat as the smell of fear intensified. Wondering if she was also beyond understanding English, he changed to something more familiar. 

He laid a hand over one of the marks on her chest, muttering to her in Lillim, promising safety and bloody vengeance but it did nothing to calm her. In fact, she grew more agitated. Her face angled towards him, not quite facing him as she attempted to glare at him through eyes swollen shut.

"You have to go," she hissed, her voice harsh and cracked, destroyed by screaming. "M-m-my King, leave. Th . . they have ... magic.  _ Real  _ magic. I-it's a trap. I . . . I’m bait. Leave me. Now. Or they'll come and--."

"Let them," he snarled, reaching for the ties that bound her intending to rip the bindings and take her with him, get her to safety and then return to await them and enact vengeance. And then she was screaming, back arching as the sigals in her skin glowed gold. He withdrew his hand as though he was the one being burned and they stopped glowing. Maze sagged forward sobbing softly and Lucifer moved around to attempt a different tactic, planning to lift her, cross and all, from the pentagram. 

"I wouldn't do that," a female voice said softly. "If you attempt to remove her from the circle before the exorcism is complete the host will die as well." Suddenly her condition made more sense. When demons had been free to possess bodies, exorcism was common. And  _ some  _ were actually effective. It was likely that once upon a time one of his feathered prats of a sibling had given the humans the signs and chants to banish his demons. But he had destroyed all evidence of them ages ago when he banned possession. In his mind, the humans had no need of divine magic without demons to use it on. That was the smell he hadn't been able to place; magic. So how had these fools gotten real magic? And how had they known who Mazikeen was? 

And then it slotted into place with sinking certainty; Daniel. Daniel had told them. And his escape from custody was likely as bait for Mazikeen, Demon bounty hunter, who would subsequently be bait for him or Chloe. The thought that Maze could have been used to lure Chloe or Beatrice made his blood run cold. They could lure him all they wanted; he would win. But Mazikeen, Chloe, Beatrice … no, they were off limits and these fools who wished to challenge the Devil would learn just how outclassed they were. 

"Let her go," Lucifer demanded, stepping forward and glaring at the woman, instilling the words with a bit of command. Of course she was a complicated one. Rather than comply, she shook her head. 

"You cannot exorcise Mazikeen," he continued, hoping more words would have better effect. "Exorcisms drive demons from a host they have  _ possessed _ . She’s possessed no one. That is  _ her  _ body that she was born into. She can't be banished from her own flesh. Trust me, if she could leave that body she'd already be gone. She wouldn’t have allowed you to do this for days." 

"The demon will leave that body," the woman replied simply, her voice devoid of emotion, of remorse, as if Mazikeen’s suffering meant nothing to her, less than nothing. As if Maze was not a sentient being capable of feeling pain. As if her existence didn't matter, her next words confirmed his assessment, "or the body will not leave the pentagram alive."

"You mean to kill her," Lucifer breathed, knowing that they had already come close. If Mazikeen couldn’t hold a glamor, basic, nearly intrinsic, magic, then she barely held on to life. The flickers from her essence made brutal sense. She  _ had  _ been close to extinguishing. Fury burned through him that Maze had waited so long to ask him for help. Even though she knew that she was bait, they were only humans, magic or no, he was more than a match for them. Though he could see why she had forgotten that, what with his vulnerability situation and indulgence in human desires and pursuits the last few years. She’d forgotten what he was, what he, as an archangel--albeit a fallen one--could do even without being half of the demiurge. The rage guttered into shame at just how he had failed her. 

Ignored her. Ignored what  _ he _ was to the point that she felt that she  _ had _ to protect him, rather than that she had done so for millenia for his convenience. His gut churned with guilt that she had allowed herself to become so close to death that there was a very real chance that he would be unable to save her in a misguided--but loyal--attempt to protect him. And then the guilt flared back to rage as the foolish  _ mortal _ woman shrugged, unconcerned about the potential loss of Maze's  _ immortal _ life. As his eyes scanned the pentagram with new interest he suddenly recognized it from an entirely different warehouse. Another cross. Another murder.

“You mean to kill her just as you did poor James Marshall,” he snarled, enraged at the fact that this woman had taken an innocent life in addition to her attempt to take Mazikeen’s. "You know that being gay is not exorcisable either, do you not?"

"My sect works to oppose the Devil in all his works," she recited, her expression placid. "If it means that some die to remove his demons it is worth the cost. The evil works of the Devil must be stopped at all costs." With a snarl of rage, Lucifer attempted to launch himself at the woman, blind with fury that she would harm the innocent and dare to blame it on him. He never made contact. As he reached the edge of the pentagram his hand flared with pain and he felt himself thrown back into the circle to land at Mazikeen’s feet. He glanced down and saw the mark that he had covered on Mazikeen's chest was emblazoned on his palm, seared into his flesh by her blood and the magic of the pentagram.

"So you are a demon too?" the woman asked, surprised. “I thought that he was wrong when he said it wasn't alone. But he wasn’t. Oh! Sister Lisa will be pleased with me! I’ve caught a second demon!”

"Friad not," he replied, allowing his own glamor to fall--his red, scarred visage taking over and his eyes flaring to vivid crimson hellfire-- and rising sinuously to his full height, hoping to scare her into leaving so that he could figure out how to free Maze and come back at his leisure once she was safe to track down the bastards that had nearly killed her. "I'm something much worse."

"Neat trick," she replied, her face blank and her tone bored. "What are you supposed to be? A  _ scary  _ demon?"

"I'm Lucifer Morningstar. The Lightbringer. Fallen Archangel. The Devil. The King of Hell and the Lord of the demon you have been torturing," he smiled, an unpleasant thing with far too many teeth. "And you, foolish human, are  _ not  _ on my good side." As if to convince her of his power, the very air seemed to grow heavy and the shadows lengthed, but they needen’t have bothered. 

"Good," she said, brightly, unimpressed by his show of power. "And wonderful. Oh, this is good. I thought I might get a second demon but I never imagined I'd catch the Devil himself, even if Lisa said you might be coming. Prepare to be exorcised from that shell." She began chanting. The mark on his palm stung, glowing golden, and Mazikeen screamed, a sound that caused him far more pain than the insignificant mark on his hand. Worse still was when she stopped. The chanting continued for a moment longer before it stopped, the sensation in his hand fading to a dull ache. He resisted the urge to look at it or rub it, instead glaring at the woman and keeping all signs of his minor discomfort tucked away. She was the first to break eye contact, turning to Mazikeen’s unconscious form. 

"If you're the Devil, banish the Demon or I continue torturing the shell," the woman said coldly. Lucifer thought about it a moment before he came to a realization, only the sigals carried power. None of the rest of his body had been affected when she had chanted, only his hand. If he could rid Maze of the marks she would be free. And he  _ would _ rid her of the marks.

"Alright then," he agreed, walking back to where Mazikeen was tied and stroking her cheek. She groaned and pulled away weakly as she regained consciousness. He trapped her face between both of his hands and bent to press his forehead gently to hers.

"It's time for you to go, Mazie," he whispered. "I am about to set you free. Do you have your blades?" She shook her head and he sighed. Blades would have been easier on both of them. He only had to destroy the marks, not obliterate them. That left only one, very painful option; fire. He removed his hands from her face, summoning fire to them and preparing to burn away the marks. As weak as she was, his attempt to save her could very well kill her and he wouldn’t begin without her express consent. Even knowing that it might cost her her life, he would do it if she agreed. All he needed was her agreement that he proceed. And then it came. 

"I welcome it, My King," Mazikeen breathed, her face relaxing and body going limp at the promise of release. Death was better than this. She did welcome it even if it was the end. But instead of death came fire. She tried to pull away from the pain, but she couldn’t move and Lucifer was merciless, punishing her for her failure and his capture. She only hoped that he would tire of her pain and kill her soon. She was tired of hurting. So tired. But oblivion refused to come. Just as she began to fade, he stopped, drawing out her torture before the end. 

He watched as the first marks singed and disappeared, ignoring the fact that it was Mazikeen he was burning. It was the same with each mark that followed. He focused on his task as she screamed and writhed, knowing that through her pain he was maybe sparing her life. When her essence flickered, he stopped, giving her time to recover before beginning anew. He wished he knew if his feathers worked on demons, but knew that in her condition exposure to divinity would more likely than not kill her. This was the only way.

When the last mark was gone, he grabbed the rope that bound her, her barely conscious form falling limply into his arms as it gave way, and placed her at the edge of the pentagram nudging her over with a foot, his hand burning faintly due to his proximity to the line. She lay there moaning softly, unmoving and barely conscious. He wondered if she could escape now that she was free, blind and maimed as she was. It was unlikely. He pulled his phone from his pocket, prepared to call her a rescue while he figured out a way to get out of the circle and deal with the girl. And he thought he knew how. 

As soon as he reached into his pocket, the girl was chanting again, the sigal flaring to life in the palm of his hand. It was more of an annoyance than the agony it had clearly caused Mazikeen, but it was still distracting. 

“Can you stop a moment?” he snapped. “Bloody hell, it’s just a phone. She’s free and your chanting isn’t doing anything more than annoying me. Stop your worthless noise and allow me to call her a Doctor and save her life. Keep you from being a murderer twice over.”

“No more demons?” the woman asked warily. Lucifer shook his head, rolling his eyes at the idea that this foolish woman thought he’d need a phone if he wanted to summon more demons. As if he’d need demons to defeat her. If Maze survived this, they were going to have to have a show-and-tell about his actual capabilities when she recovered,  _ clearly _ she needed a refresher. 

“I will not use a phone to call more demons,” he agreed as he dialed, pressing send. “Just a doctor.” The woman nodded as if he required her approval while he was wanting for Dr. Linda to pick up. 

“Hello?” he asked. “Yes, it’s me. I need you to come and get Maze from a warehouse. It seems she and I have gotten ourselves in a bit of trouble and she’s in need of patching up. Yes, yes, I know that you’re not that kind of doctor but you’re the only one we’ve got. Thank you, Doctor. I will text you the address.” He sent her a link with his GPS coordinates from Google Maps and then turned his attention back to the woman.

“Now, what are you and I to do?” he asked, summoning his wings and hoping they would intimidate where his devil face had failed. “You can’t exorcise me. This is not a shell I’ve possessed. It’s the body I was  _ created  _ into. Crafted and formed by God and Goddess to perfection. And while your mark will sting a bit, I am  _ not _ a demon. Totally different and inferior species, they are. Genetically, I am still an archangel. Your mark, singular as nothing you possess can mar my skin, can inconvenience me at the most. It will not incapacitate me and I will eventually escape and show you the meaning of pain. If you run you might get enough of a head start that it takes me years to find you. Probably not, but it's your best shot. And that becomes substantially less likely if she dies. So, what’s your plan?” 

In response, she began chanting. The mark on his palm searing to painful life. Knowing it was the only solution, he summoned flame to his left hand, bringing it to his right and willing it to bite into his flesh. The smell of his own skin burning and the pain of it dancing up his nerves brought back memories more painful than the act itself but he persisted until he was certain all traces of the sigal were gone. When he was, he stepped from the circle, allowing burns to creep over his skin once more, leaving behind red, craggy scars that he knew contrasted sharply with his wings to create a vivid image and stalked towards the foolish girl, the flames of hell dancing along the ground behind him. 

For the first time, fear crossed her face. She reeked of it as she dropped to her knees, folding her hands and closing her eyes, lips moving in silent devotion. 

"Prayer won't help you now," he said, shocked by the way his voice reverberated through the warehouse, a quality he'd only ever had in Hell. "I'm afraid I rarely get that reception and Dad never answers." Suddenly it became audible, a Latin plea to his Father and twin.

"Dad doesn't care about Latin, foolish girl," Lucifer scoffed, lifting her from the floor by her throat with one hand. The words continuing to be mouthed soundlessly as his hand cut off her air. "And neither does my feathered prat of a twin."

"Are you sure of that, Lucifer?" came a voice from behind him that caused him to freeze, hoping he was wrong. Lucifer looked over his shoulder, dropping the girl, withdrawing his wings, and raising his glamor in the process, to see Michael standing there in all his glory. Golden wings and matching robes shining with the light of the divine. 

"Bollocks," Lucifer muttered, glaring down at the girl sniveling at his feet. "See what you've done now?" He asked before turning to face his brother fully, schooling his features into impassivity. "Why are you here, Mikey? Your presence isn't needed."

"She called me," he said with a shrug. "And it looks like you were about to break the rule and kill a human. _Again_. So apparently I am needed and perhaps Raguiel as well."

"There’s not really a higher level of punishment than eternal damnation, Mikey. And it’s not like any of you can kill me without Dad’s direct command. Maybe not even then, since I have no intention of surrendering to you lot’s idea of justice. Besides, since when do humans summon you like a dog?" Lucifer demanded. "You, the great commander of the Silver City, erstwhile Power of the Demiurge, answering the call of a mortal? When did you stoop so low, Brother?"

"Do not call me that!" Michael snapped, his wings flaring with agitation. "You're not my brother and haven't been for eons. Not since you attacked us, drew celestial blood and ended celestial lives."

"You mean not since  _ you  _ broke that bond, refusing to hear me out over an accident, beat me, chained me and threw me out to fall through the realms and crash land in Hell?" Lucifer countered, raising his chin and showing the pale line. "Left more than a few scars too. But this one's all yours, Mikey. I distinctly remember my blood on your sword, and your hands. Your hands aren’t clean of celestial blood either. At least mine was an accident."

“And Uriel?” Michael demanded. “Was he an accident, too, Lucifer?” Lucifer curled in on himself as thought Michael had struck him, the words reopening the ache in his chest that had never healed. 

“H-he left me no choice, Michael,” Lucifer said, feeling all the world like Samael, begging them to understand that he hadn’t meant to cause the earthquake, knowing that the result would be the same. “I had to--”

“Wipe him from existence?” Michael supplied. “You expect me to believe that  _ you _ , the King of Hell, Will of the Demiurge, commander of Hell’s forces had  _ no  _ choice but to stab another angel with Azrael’s blade? With all the powers of Hell at your disposal  _ that  _ was your solution? Annihilation?” 

“I didn’t have my wings,” Lucifer countered. “My abilities were limited. And I had no desire to summon a legion to Earth. Not that it would have worked against Uriel anyway. He was going to kill Mum. He’s the one brought the blade to the fight, not me. I had no other choice."

“Because nothing’s ever your fault, is it, Lucifer?” Michael scoffed. “And did you kill him for Mom, your demon, your own desire . . . or Chloe Decker?”

“Leave her out of this,” Lucifer snarled, a growl rising up from his very soul, shaking the ground and reverberating in his chest. He knew it was wrong to let Michael see how much he cared for her, but her name in his brother's mouth made him want to rip out Michael's tongue and feed it to him.

“Why? Because she’s a miracle and you think she’s  _ yours _ ?” Michael demanded. “Tell me this, Lucifer, why would Father ever make anything just for you? The only celestial to kill another, the rebellious son, the ungrateful one? Why would he make  _ you _ a gift?” 

“To hurt me,” Lucifer responded simply, shrugging as though it didn't matter while the undeniable truth of the matter gutted him. “She’s mortal, she’s pure. I’m neither of those things. She'll go where I cannot follow. He’s giving me a taste of love to make it all the more bitter when she’s taken from me. It’s as simple as that. It’s a new and exquisite form of torture from the most manipulative bastard in the multiverse.” 

“You’ll not speak of Father that way!” Michael snapped, his wings surging forward, primaries glistening and sharp in the light. 

“Or what?” Lucifer scoffed, pleased to have taken the upper hand in this conversation. “You’ll make me regret it? Punish me? Try it. I’ve wanted this fight for eons. I think you’ll find that I’m more than a match for you when I actually fight back.” 

“We’ll see,” Michael growled before launching himself at his brother. Lucifer grinned, sidestepping the initial attack before punching him between the shoulderblades and driving him into the ground. He moved to kick him but had to abort the motion as one of Michael’s wings came at him from the side, barely missing him--the sharp feathers cutting into his jacket but not his flesh.

“You’ve forgotten how to battle adversaries with wings, Lucifer,” Michael said, rising from the floor with a flap and spinning to face him. “How long has it been since you’ve even used yours for more than short jaunts?” 

“Bugger off, Mikey,” Lucifer snarled, discarding the tattered jacket and summoning hellfire. “Ever fought anyone who can do this?” As he caged his twin in with hellfire, the circle slowly closing around him, he was just waiting for the call of surrender to stop it, not wanting to be responsible for the death of another sibling. It never came. As the circle closed in, Michael rose into the air, above the hellfire before swooping in and hitting Lucifer hard enough to knock him to the ground.

“Wings, Lucifer,” Michael scoffed, fluttering above him. “This isn’t a grounded fight. If you want to win and save your demon and detective I suggest you use yours. What do you think will happen to them if I kill you and hell has no king?”

"You won't kill me, Michael,"Lucifer groaned as he rose to his feet, refusing to summon his wings since it was clearly what his twin wanted, though he had no idea why. "Dad didn't kill me. I've died twice and ended up in Hell only to return to my body, once with His help. Dad clearly doesn't want me dead. So as Dad's good little errand boy, you can't kill me."

As anticipated, the words enraged Michael. He waited until Michael swooped down to attack. But rather than dodge, he ducked, coming up behind him and deftly grabbing and dislocating his brother's left wing with precision and experience born from his own wing amputating phase. He released it and Michael stumbled, the dead weight of the unresponsive wing dragging him down. 

"Now it's a grounded fight," Lucifer smirked. "How much experience do you have in those? Just admit defeat and I'll pop your wing back in and you can pop off home, deal?"

"No deal," Michael snarled, trying unsuccessfully to rearticulate the wing joint. "I'm not defeated yet.

"So be it," Lucifer grinned, all teeth and no pleasure. "As I said, this is a rematch I've wanted for eons. Don't disappoint me."


	27. Z is for zealot part 2

Not long after Lucifer left, they'd tired of swimming and had gotten out of the pool. A quick shower to get the pool water off and Chloe found herself trying to figure out dinner while Trixie picked a movie. She shook her head indulgently as Trixie flopped down on the couch and patted her leg trying to entice Fluffy into sitting next to her. She couldn’t stop the small huff of a laugh as the hellhound clambered enthusiastically onto the furniture and collapsed into her daughter’s lap acting more like the hound he resembled than the one that struck fear into the heart of at least one demon. 

“Trixie, baby, I don’t think Lucifer would approve of hellhounds on the furniture,” she called as she poured herself a generous glass of wine wondering just how the hell discussing hellhounds had become her life. Said hellhound shot her an unamused look and burrowed further into his charge’s side before heaving a sigh and closing his eyes. 

“He’d get over it, Mom,” Trixie called, sitting up a bit to bend her head over the couch to look at her mother upside down. “A couple of years ago he wouldn’t have approved of me being on the couch.” Chloe just laughed and shrugged. She couldn’t say that Trixie was wrong. Lucifer _had_ tried to play fetch with her for God’s sake.

“Fair enough,” she agreed. “I’ll let you two work that out. Pizza for dinner?” 

“Pineapple and ham?” Trixie asked, advocating for her newly found favorite flavor combination. Chloe thought suggesting it to her may have been the most evil thing Lucifer had ever done. 

“Half,” Chloe bargained, staunchly believing that pineapple did not belong on pizza. “Meat lovers on the other side.”

“Separate pizzas,” Trixie countered. “Pepperoni and sausage have too strong a flavor profile and will overpower the delicate tang of the pineapple.” Chloe did laugh at that. Even some of the inflection on the words had been Lucifer’s and she could tell that they had discussed pizza toppings at some time in her absence. 

“Deal,” Chloe agreed. “Besides, I don’t want your pineapple contaminating my pepperonis.” Trixie’s indignant retort was cut off by the ringing of Chloe’s phone. A quick glance at the caller ID showed it to be Linda. Which, given the suddenness of Lucifer’s departure that evening was especially troubling. As was the therapist’s response after Chloe answered.

"Chloe, call your sitter," Linda's voice was urgent and left no room for argument, but Chloe couldn't comply. Even though she knew that Linda would only call her like this if she had to. 

"I don't have one," she said, feeling guilty that she hadn't thought this through better than that. How had her world of connections that she trusted to watch Trixie who were readily available shrank to Lucifer and Maze? Both of whom were currently unavailable. Really terrible planning on her part but there was nothing to be done for it at the moment. Linda’s silence was a weighty thing that made her feel as if she had to explain herself--no wonder her friend made such a good therapist. 

"Since the whole Mexico thing,” she began, attempting to be vague for the benefit of the little ears that were far too interested from the living room, “I haven’t. . . there hasn’t been anyone we’ve trusted to, not that Lucifer and I haven’t mostly been able to be there whenever someone was needed, and we haven’t _talked_ about getting a new one. We've just used Maze, and she's not answering so…"

"She's in trouble," Linda corrected. "Lucifer called me to pick her up. Apparently she needs medical attention. And of course he called me because even though I keep telling you people I'm not that kind of Doctor does anybody listen? No of course not. _Especially_ not Lucifer. And now they've gone and gotten themselves in trouble. And he says that they need me. And if they need me, I need you so you're coming. Find a sitter." But Chloe shook her head, even knowing that Linda couldn't see her. With a quick glance at Fluffy and Trixie, she headed for the balcony, closing the door behind her before she answered.

"If they're in enough trouble that Lucifer called for help rather than showing up at your door with her bleeding out on your porch and demanding aid, I don't need to be there," Chloe said softly her voice cracking as she worried about them--about him--in that much danger. "I-I make him vulnerable, Linda. If they're in enough danger that Maze needs help, it's better if I'm here." Linda heaved a shuddering sigh that almost sounded like she was on the edge of tears.

"Chole," Linda breathed, "I'm scared. He made it sound like she's seriously injured. And he … he just wants me to walk into a situation that was too intense for Maze? I don't want to go alone."

"He wouldn't've called if he didn't think he had it mostly under control," Chloe reassured her before groaning as she could almost hear the therapist smirking at having led her into a logical trap. If Lucifer had it under control, it didn't matter if she made him vulnerable if he didn't then Linda shouldn't go anyway. Chloe laughed and shook her head. Being friends with someone trained in human psychology could be a real pain in the ass.

"Let me call Ella," Chloe sighed, trusting the forensic scientist and knowing Linda had her beat. "If she's free, Trixie should be alright with Fluffy until she can get here. Where do I need to meet you?"

"I'm in your driveway," she replied, a bit too smugly for Chloe's taste. With another little laugh, Chloe hung up and dialed Ella. 

"You mean I get to hang with my favorite little chica _and_ crash at your new giant mansion? Hell yeah, I'm in. I'll be there in fifteen, maybe twenty," Ella promised. A quick explanation to Trixie, a text to Ella with the gate code and a request for a selfie to show to Fluffy so he wouldn't eat her and Chloe found herself in the passenger seat of Linda's car wondering just what the hell she was doing. _Please be alright_ , she prayed to Lucifer. To try to distract herself, she went ahead and ordered pizza for Trixie and Ella. Hopefully Ella either liked pineapple or pepperoni. 

***

Lucifer groaned as he pushed himself back to his feet, bracing his left ribs with his left elbow. He could feel the grinding of at least one broken rib, the pain sharp amongst the throbbing scattered along his body. He and Michael were on far more even footing than he'd anticipated. Even grounded and with one wing useless, Michael packed a punch. And he’d been right when he was taunting him earlier; it had been far too long since Lucifer had fought someone with whom he was on equal footing. And he and Michael were equals. Archangels the both of them, twins, equally strong and fast. He was hindered by his refusal to manifest his wings and Michael by his dislocated wing dragging and slowing him--which Lucifer had to admit was the only reason he wasn’t defeated yet (demons really weren’t that fast by comparison and fighting below his class for so long had truly dulled his abilities). And Amenidiel was many things, but fast wasn’t one of them. Unlike Michael. No, as it stood, neither of them was winning and they were both rather battered. 

“Give up, Mikey,” Lucifer ground out, wishing he had it in his exhausted body to rush his brother and thrash him before Michael could get off the ground where Lucifer had knocked his feet out from under him when Michael had broken his rib. 

“You first,” Michael panted, levering himself up with his right wing and left arm, before curling his wing protectively around his right side, concealing a hand that hung at an odd angle and looked a bit worse for wear. 

“Break something, did you?” Lucifer asked, jutting his chin toward his brother’s hand. 

“More than one something by the look of it,” Michael retorted, gesturing at Lucifer’s own arm guarding his side. Lucifer shrugged, regretting it instantly and attempting to hide the wince from the pain the careless movement caused him as the muscles between his ribs spasmed. 

“Neither of us can win this, Lucifer,” Michael said softly, clearly exhausted, his left eye beginning to swell shut in a mirror to his twin. 

“Neither of us can concede either, can we?” Lucifer demanded, grimacing as drawing the breath to speak caused his ribs to grate. “I give up and you’re going to try to demand I go to Hell, where I lose face as the Lord of Hell for being unable to beat you. You give up and you lose face as the Commander of Heaven for being unable to defeat me. And, well, reputation is all that we have, isn’t it? So what do we do, Michael? You and I continue beating each other for all eternity?”

“I could summon the Host,” Michael threatened, swiping at blood dripping from his nose. Lucifer laughed before bending double with a groan, grabbing his chest with his right hand. 

“Do-don’t,” he ground out. “Hurts to laugh, Mikey. You do that and I’ll summon the legions. You’ll get the war you accuse me of trying to start and we destroy this universe. Unacceptable. Next suggestion.” 

“You surrender and go home,” Michael delivered, deadpan. 

“I am home," Lucifer snarled. "Next.” 

“We keep fighting,” Michael snapped. “You and me, locked in futile battle until the end of time. There is no way to end this, short of you killing me, that ends with me leaving you on Earth. Father sent you to Hell and Hell is where you are supposed to be.” 

With a snarl, Lucifer summoned fire, sending it towards his twin. As he had the last dozen or so times, Michael conjured raw matter to be his shield, and it became an equally matched battle of wills, both pressing against the other in a supernatural challenge of strength. Only this time, they didn’t fight to a draw. External forces intervened in the form of a miracle.

“Lucifer? Are you here?” Chloe’s voice called before he could see her. The flames guttered at his shock and Michael stumbled as his shield lost it’s opposing force and shot outward. He looked from Lucifer’s horrified face to the sound of her voice with triumph in every line of his exhausted body. 

“No,” Lucifer breathed, as she came around the wall, looking around in curiosity, her expression landing on him and morphing into one of concern but his eyes were locked on his twin who began shaping energy with clear intent.

"Michael, don't. Please," Lucifer said, not caring that he was begging. His pride was nothing if it saved her. 

“Perhaps with her gone you will be easier to persuade,” Michael said before pulling back to throw it. Knowing he would never be fast enough on foot, Lucifer summoned his wings preparing to put himself between her and the energy--even knowing he was unlikely to survive it even were she not there. Neither of them were likely to survive. But the moment his wings appeared, Michael lowered his arm and released the material back to the universe without throwing it. Lucifer tilted his head in confusion, Michael laughed. 

“You really thought I’d kill a mortal?” Michael asked, his expression victorious. “I’m not you, Lucifer. I follow Father’s rules.” Before Lucifer could reply, there was a shrill whistle from Michael and rough hands were on his wings, pulling them taunt and pressing downward, forcing him to his knees, his depleted muscles unable to resist the pressure. A panicked glance to either side revealed Gabriel and Raphael restraining him just as Raguiel appeared before him, gazing down his nose at him in disgust. 

“Samael,” Raguiel began imperiously.

“That’s not my name,” Lucifer snarled, pulling ineffectively against his brothers even knowing that the movement was futile. “I haven’t used that name in eons.”

“It is still yours, given to you by our Father,” Raguiel said, unimpressed by the ire of the Devil. “It is the name under which you received judgement and the name under which you will receive justice now. Samael, you were sentenced to an eternity in Hell. You have flouted that sentence, “vacationing” to Earth when it pleased you. Bringing with you pain, suffering, demons and hellhounds. For this, and the danger your presence represents, this sentence will be expanded upon.”

“There’s not much that’s longer than eternity,” Lucifer spat, pain and fear lending him energy. “I think that’s the point of _eternal_. There is nothing longer. You can’t expand upon eternity.”

“But we _can_ enforce it,” Raguiel said solemnly. “Samael, also known as Lucifer, to enforce the will of our Father, your means of escape from your punishment will be removed. The wounds to be cauterized by divine fire so that regrowth will not occur. You will then be returned to Hell, where you will remain for eternity.” Lucifer paled as the words sank in. They meant to amputate his wings and dump him in Hell. Trapped forever in Hell. Wingless. Grounded. Unable to escape even for a moment. The pain of the removal, excruciating though it would be, would be nothing compared to that. 

“No!” Chloe snapped placing herself between him and his brother, glaring up at the Angel of Justice with her arms wide. “You can’t do this. You can’t just amputate limbs as punishment. That is not justice and I won't allow it.”

“I am the Judge,” Raguiel intoned, “gifted by our Father with the ability to pass judgement on all, even archangels. I decide what is justice--”

“This isn’t justice,” Chloe snarled. “It’s torture. And I won’t stand by and allow--”

“And who are you to determine what is justice?” Raguiel demanded, his voice rising as he grew irritated with her interference, this mortal woman who dared to suggest he was wrong. 

Raguiel's eyes flashed silver and Lucifer feared for her. He tried to call her name and get her to move but she was undeterred. Fearless in fighting what she felt was injustice. Of course she was, his brave Detective. But she was a mouse before a lion, a mortal woman staring down an archangel. He needed to defend her before she was crushed but he couldn't break free. 

"Who do you think you are to attempt to judge divine justice?" Raguiel repeated. 

  
  


“Chloe Decker,” she said, refusing to back down though Lucifer could hear her heart pounding in her chest--too quickly to sustain for long--from where he was pinned. “Detective with the LAPD, Lucifer’s girlfriend and . . . and a fucking miracle. Ordained to exist by your Father. Perhaps _exactly_ for this moment. Just so that I could be here to tell you that you’re wrong.” 

“You should have kept your name, Samael,” Michael scoffed. “You _are_ a poison. Corrupting everything you touch. Even something as pure as a miracle.” Lucifer winced, Michael’s words echoing his own fears about what he had done to Chloe’s life. 

“I am not corrupted,” she said slowly, her tone low, dangerous, her blue eyes flashing as she glared at Michael before turning back to Raguiel. “Now let him go.” Her words had no effect. 

“We have indulged you long enough, mortal,” Raguiel said with a sigh, brushing her aside gently but inescapably. “Michael, begin.”

“No!” Chloe countered, rushing forward and grabbing Michael’s wrist--the one he had broken on Lucifer’s ribs--causing the archangel to flinch and knock her to the ground with his elbow. It had been an accident, but the blow had still been enough to leave her dazed. Just as he was beginning to worry for her, white hot pain blinded him as Michael buried heavenly steel in his left wing. Perhaps it was due to being forced to use his non-dominant hand, but he was not as efficient as Mazikeen had been, haphazardly slashing and jabbing in contrast to what had been surgical precision. And he’d begun at the top rather than the bottom, leaving him to deal with the large vessels and bone first. Clearly he had no idea what he was doing and a scream rose up Lucifer’s throat as the steel hit a nerve, the pain giving him strength and enabling him to briefly break free. Michael’s knife, which had been embedded in his wing, pulled free on instinct and in his hand as he looked around wildly. 

And then all four of them were on him, pinning him to the ground, wrestling the blade from his hands and forcing his arms behind his back where warm metal was closed around his wrists. He tugged experimentally but knew that it was over even before he did. Celestial. Unbreakable. It was over. His body went limp and only his pride kept him from weeping.

“Lucifer, your wicked deeds have led us here,” Raguiel said, almost sounding regretful. “Rebelling against Father. Ignoring your punishment. Killing Uriel. Corrupting a miracle. Your evil cannot be allowed to continue unchecked.”

“He’s not evil,” came a new voice. Lucifer raised his head, surprised to see Dr. Martin standing next to his brother, looking all together too tiny and fragile to be spouting such venom. “Lucifer is many, _many_ less than positive things. Proud, narcissistic, impulsive but not evil. Never evil.”

“He punishes evil,” Chloe added, offering him a sad smile, one he couldn’t bring himself to return. 

“The word of two corrupted mortals means nothing,” Gabriel said softly. “Father’s judgement must be upheld. Lucifer must return to hell and stay there. Which he has proven cannot be guaranteed if he has the means of escape.” 

“Which Father wouldn’t have left him if he wasn’t meant to have,” Azrael said, stepping out of the void into the warehouse. “Has it occurred to any of you overzealous _idiots_ that Father’s punishment has been served and is over?” 

“He told him to go to Hell,” Raphael said simply. “I was there.”

“We all were,” Azrael snapped, her dark eyes flashing. “And unlike _you_ I hated every moment of it. Father told him to go to Hell. He didn’t say that he had to _stay_ there.” There was a few seconds of silence as they exchanged glances and Lucifer raised his head to look at Azrael in confusion. As he replayed memories he wished he had forgotten he realized that she was right. He had been in much the same position as he was now as he had glared up at his Father, seeking insight.

_“You had an end-game in this. What is it? What do you want from me? Why did you give me the ability to see what others desire and to have desires myself if not to let me use them? Why can I not have free will? You’re giving it to the humans. Am I not more deserving? If you didn’t want me to want it, why did you let me have the ability to want? That was a cruel and flawed design Father. And I hate you for it. I hate you for making me this way.” Something he couldn’t place flashed through his Father’s eyes for a second before they closed and His jaw clenched. When His eyes opened next, they were hard._

_“Go to Hell, my son,” God said simply. “You are no longer welcome here. Throw him down.”_

“He _didn’t_ say I had to stay there,” Lucifer muttered, almost to himself. “He just said I had to go.”

“And He said you weren’t welcome in the Silver City,” Azrael said softly. “He didn’t say anything about Earth.”

“But it was implied,” Raguiel argued, his tone less sure than it had been moments before. 

“Vaguties in the law are always in the favor of the accused,” Chloe said, hoping that her interference wouldn’t fan back to life flames that were dying. Thinking that perhaps from one officer of the law to another, her words would have meaning. 

“Father didn’t say ‘go to Hell until you feel like leaving’ He said ‘go to Hell,” Michael argued.

“Nor did He say go to Hell forever,” Gabriel countered. “Have we erred, Raguiel? Is this a mistake?” 

“No!” Michael snapped. “Lucifer killed our brethren. He’s supposed to be in Hell. If he was in Hell, Uriel would be alive.”

“If Uriel had stayed in the Silver City and not tried to take Father’s will into his own hands he’d be alive,” Azrael argued. “If he hadn't trapped Lu in a no-win situation he'd be alive. If he hadn't stolen my blade, he'd be alive. If Father had wanted him to remain alive, he would be. But he thought he knew what Father wanted, attempted to act on it, and now he’s dead. What if that’s what’s going to happen to you?"

She looked from one contemplative face to another, then continued, "What do you think would have happened if I hadn’t’ve stepped in? Huh? The Miracle’d have gotten hurt, Lucifer’d’ve retaliated, Hell would have been unleashed. Michael would have summoned the Host. This world would end and I’d’ve had more work to do than I could have finished this millenia. Do you idiots think that’s what Father wants?” Gabriel, Raphael and Raguiel exchanged sheepish glances before Raguiel sighed.

“Perhaps I was wrong to assume that I knew what our Father wishes,” he said as though each word was a struggle. “You have my apology, Lucifer.” With a gesture of his hand the manacles vanished. 

“And mine,” Raphael offered, extending his hand and placing it on Lucifer’s wing where the rent flesh knit back together with a shimmer of golden light. The healing complete, he removed his hands from his brother, looking repentant. 

“I thought I was doing Father’s wish,” Gabriel said, releasing Lucifer’s wing and stepping back. “I will apologize to Him for my misinterpretation but not for my actions. Nor will I apologize to you, Lucifer. You deserve to be punished for what you did to our brother.”

“I wouldn't have accepted your apology anyway,” Lucifer snapped, rising painfully to his feet and facing them before backing away, his wings spread wide to shield Chloe and Linda from their view. “Some things are a bit too profound for an “I’m sorry” to fix it. And I don’t forgive you. Any of you. I never will. Now go home. Leave us be. And make sure everyone else knows that I don’t forgive them and don’t want any more visits from angels claiming to want to enforce Dad’s will. I hope to never see any of you again.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Gabriel said, spreading shining silver laced black wings before vanishing. Raphael and Raguiel said nothing before following him. 

“Why are you still here?” Lucifer snarled at Michael, who had made no move to leave with their brothers. 

“It’s not because I enjoy your company,” he snarked. “Can’t leave with a dislocated wing, can I? Fix me.” he looked to Azrael who held her hands up and shook her head.

“Yeah . . . I don’t know how to do that,” she said, before pointing at Lucifer. “It’s gotta be one of them.” Michael wrinkled his nose in disgust before groaning and turning his back to Lucifer saying,” Don’t let him stab me in the back.”

“That’s more your gig than mine,” Lucifer said, rolling his eyes before grabbing his brother’s wing and popping it deftly back into place. “Bye bye now. Off you pop.” In a swirl of dust and gold feathers, Michael was gone leaving only Azrael. With the rest of the celestials gone, Lucifer seemed to deflate, his right hand coming to his left side with a groan as his wings drooped and curled around him. 

“Bloody Raphael,” he grumbled. “Couldn’t be bothered to just take care of all of it, could he?”

“Are you . . . will you be alright?” Chloe asked, moving to stroke his cheek, finding it hard to find a spot that wasn’t bruising. 

“I’ll be fine, love,” he promised and she smiled. Lucifer never lied. If he said he’d be fine then fine he would be. “Thanks to you,” he added, shifting his gaze to Azrael. 

“I’m just sorry that I couldn’t help before,” she said, smiling sadly. “You really are my favorite brother, Lu. Always have been.” He smiled and looked away, uncertain what to say to the only sibling he had never hated. Everything seemed too little in the face of what she was offering to him and had done for him but he didn’t know what else he could tell her. Thankfully, Chloe saved him breaking the awkward silence. 

“Who--”

“Oh! Sorry. There wasn’t really time for introductions, was there?” she said awkwardly. “Azrael, Angel of Death. Pleasure to meet you, Chloe. Ella and Lu have told me so much about you.” 

“Oh, Azrae--does me being able to see you mean that I’m dying because I’m not really ready for that just yet, you know? Still have things I’d rather be doing,” Chloe said, looking at Lucifer nervously.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Azrael said with a laugh. “I took normal form for this. Don’t be . . . oh what was the old phrase, Lu? Be not afraid? Yeah, that was it. Be not afraid!” At that, Linda began laughing hysterically. It was rather contagious and before Chloe knew it, she was laughing too, clinging to her friend as they both fought to remain upright. The knowledge that they had faced down archangels, were talking with the Angel of Death and were both going to be alright. It was too much. 

“Are they alright?”

“I believe so,” Lucifer replied, watching them cautiously. “This is something I’ve discovered that humans do when they think they should have died and didn’t.” Azrael nodded sagely, watching as the two women slowly stopped laughing. 

“If you’re done,” Lucifer said, trying to ground them back to the present and get them on topic. “Maze is over there and needs your assistance, Doctor. And, Detective, there is a miscreant over there who not only tried to kill my darling demon but was party to the death of poor Mr. Marshall. I’ve done my bit but I do believe she is yours to arrest. Might even lead us to the whole murderous sect.” 

“Let me call it in,” Chloe nodded, pulling her phone from her pocket before pausing. “Can demons go to hospitals?” 

“She needs one,” Linda said from where she was kneeling beside Mazikeen, her fingers pressing into the demon’s carotid artery as she visually scanned her friend, her heart breaking. “Pulse is there but it's weak and thready. I . . . this is more than I can do, Lucifer. She'll die if she doesn't get real help.”

“Her organs are the same as a human’s,” Lucifer said slowly, working through if Maze could go to a hospital. “Her blood is red, I’m not sure about typing but it should test close enough to be fine. She’s not invulnerable and doesn’t have wings. The glamor will be a bit of a problem, but not if she doesn’t raise it before she’s discharged. Are there any medical test that can detect a soul?”

“No?” Linda said, looking at him as though he’d lost his mind. 

“Should be fine then,” he said with a shrug, turning to Azrael for confirmation “Right?” 

“No clue,” she said, mirroring his shrug. "Gotta go though. Bye, Lu. See you soon. " Without waiting for a reply she vanished. 

“Should be fine,” he repeated, nodding to Chloe. “Call it in, Detective.” Chloe nodded and did just that before arresting the unresisting girl who kept muttering about angels and demons and begging God to forgive her as she cowered in a corner. Once she was cuffed without incident, Lucifer moved to Maze’s side and sat beside her stroking her hair and muttering to her in Lilium praising her strength and begging her to stay with him as her essence continued to flicker. She was still alive when the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance to take her to the hospital.

Lucifer was so happy to see them that he allowed one of their exclamations of “Jesus” to go unanswered. He found it telling that it took nothing more than a simple no from him before his own obvious injuries were ignored. He hoped that she would survive. 

"Do you want to go with her?" Chloe asked, resting a hand on his arm to get his attention when repeated uses of his name had gone unheeded. He thought about it a moment but the idea of Maze, his Maze, small and broken in a sterile hospital was more than he could bring himself to face. He shook his head and Chloe nodded, understanding his reluctance. Seeing the strong demon so battered and weak had shaken her and she didn't have millenia of memories to fall back on. 

"I'll know if she dies," he said, his expression distant as though seeing something he couldn't actually see. 

"I'll go with her," Linda offered, running to catch up with the paramedics, throwing her keys to Chloe. "I'll call when she wakes up." With them gone, officers came to take their statements, watching Lucifer spin the story when she knew the truth was masterful--especially as, true to form, he never lied. Though there was some very heavy misdirection--a bit of persuasion and some distraction and his blatant injuries were ignored. Soon, they were headed home. 

Lucifer sank into the passenger seat of Linda's car with a groan, flashing her a grateful smile when she grabbed the lever and let him slide his seat back. He closed his eyes and leaned against the headrest, livid bruises blooming on his skin, lip oozing blood and hand bracing his ribs. It all looked worse in the light of day. 

"You look like hell," Chloe said softly. 

"I feel like hell," Lucifer muttered, opening a weary eye. "My brother hits harder than anything in hell though."

"He looked worse," she said, backing out around a patrol car.

"Always has," Lucifer joked, repeating an old jab at his nearly identical twin. They were silent as she wove through crates heading for the road. 

"I want to thank you," he said suddenly. "For what you said and did with Raguiel. No one ever … well, RaeRae did, but it didn't matter for me or end well for her. It could have, he could have . . . Why did you do it?"

"Because I love you," she said as if that answered everything. For the first time in his existence he wondered if it didn't. He thought of all that they had been through for the other, all that they had both sacrificed, endured and through it all there had been one under arching constant: love. Illogical, foolish and painful but also warm and rewarding. 

"I love you, Lucifer Morningstar," she repeated. "I'd face down anything for you. Heaven and Hell included."

"I believe I understand that now, Chloe," he sighed. "And I would do the same. For you or the child. All the same, I'd prefer to avoid potentially apocalyptic events for quite some time, if it's all the same to you, darling."

"Quite a mutual feeling, sweetheart," she agreed. "I hope Ella and Trixie left us some pizza. Facing down certain death sure does make you hungry." 

"Pizza? With pineapple?" He asked, pleased with the change of subject. He smiled contentedly as she lit playfully into him for introducing her daughter to that abomination. As warmth spread through his chest at her teasing chastisement he sent a prayer of thanks to Azrael for her part in safeguarding this reality. He couldn't imagine his life without her and she repeatedly told him she was satisfied with her life with the Devil. He hoped she always was. 


	28. Epilogue: Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone goes home and tends their wounds. Someone else gets involved.

Maze died. Twice. Lucifer felt it, the moment her heart stopped beating. Their connection disintegrating, leaving him off-balance only to snap back only moments later. They weren’t even home the first time it happened, the whiplash from it causing him to exclaim and leaving him panting in the passenger seat of Linda’s car. 

“Lucifer!” Chloe called, reaching for him and pulling her eyes from the road, attempting to move to the shoulder and almost causing a wreck in her panic. He waved her off shaking his head.

“Drive, Love,” he gasped, rubbing his hand over his eyes and regretting it instantly as it caused an almost nauseating wave of pain. “It’s not me. I’m fine. I … It-it’s.”

“Maze?” Chloe finished, pulling her eyes back to the traffic and trying to drive as she drew a shuddering breath. “She died?”

“Briefly,” he said, extending a hand that he was surprised to find was shaking, to her thigh. “She’s alive again. I . . . I don’t know that she’ll survive this, Chloe.” His voice was entirely too small to have come from him as he finished his statement. “Her lifeforce . . . it’s so weak, barely there. I-it’s been flickering for hours. But there's nothing I can do. I can’t save her. If I tried, the exposure to divinity  _ would  _ kill her. And it’s my fault.”

“No,” Chloe said firmly. “It is not. your. Fault. The fault lies in the bastards that abducted and tortured her.”

“Which they wouldn’t have been able to do if I hadn’t sent her after Daniel,” Lucifer snapped, his emotional distress over Maze and the pain of his own wounds making him short. “Who, in all honesty, wouldn’t’ve gotten tangled up with the wankers in the first place had I not caused him an existential crisis. And I only did it because he made me mad. I ruined his life, yours, Beatrice’s and ended Maze’s over a slight to my pride. Michael was right.”

“He wasn’t,” Chloe snarled. “He was wrong about everything, Lucifer. And how would you expect him to be right? When was the last time he saw you?”

“When he threw me from the Silver City,” Lucifer said, the words almost inaudible.

“And how long ago was that?” Chloe demanded, trying to get him to see what she was hinting at.

“Longer than you can fathom,” he said, with a small shrug, aborted with a groan of pain. 

“So how can he, any of your fucking family for that matter, presume to know  _ anything _ about you?” she asked with a humorless laugh. “Damn it, Lucifer. You’ve done plenty of things in your life that you can feel responsible for, I know of at least three counts of breaking and entering, at least six assaults, I don’t even  _ want _ to know how much coke or pot you’ve done, how many swimming pools worth of alcohol you’ve drank, or how many illegal deals you’ve made but what did you always tell me about people’s choices and you, hm?”

“I don’t make people commit evil acts,” Lucifer said, offering her a sad smile. “But--”

“No,” Chloe said firmly. “You are not responsible for what that cult did to Maze. You didn’t know that you were sending her into a trap. You thought you were sending her after Dan. And she’s more than a match for him. You tried to help as soon as you knew that she was in trouble. You’re not responsible. Let’s get you home, cleaned up and then up to see her, yeah?” He said nothing but she took his silence as an agreement. After a bit of silence, she could almost hear him sinking into self-loathing and chanced a glance over at him. There was a red patch on the back of his hand and the side of his neck, but she couldn’t tell if it was bruising or self-actualization. 

“How long will that take to heal up?” she asked, trying to distract him. “You really do look like you’ve been through hell and back.” 

“A few days for most of it,” he said absently. “Perhaps closer to a week for the broken bones. I’m not actually sure. There’s very little in Hell or on Earth that can actually break me. I’ve not broken a bone since . . . suffice it to say it’s been quite some time.”  _ The Fall _ she realized, the flicker of terror across his face before he cut himself off telling her more than his words. She nodded before asking, “I know  _ that _ is not something you want to think about, but I’m sure you are with what just happened. With  _ who _ just showed up since it was the last time you've seen most of them. Do you _want_ to talk about it?” 

“No, Love,” he said softly, squeezing her thigh. “I . . . the memories of it haunt me, I couldn’t bear it if they haunted you as well. Even if I were willing, which I am not, they are too close to the surface today for me to be objective in the telling. And I . . . no, Chloe, that is the one desire of yours that I will not fulfill.” 

“Okay,” she said gently, squeezing the hand on her leg, mindful of the bruised and broken skin of his knuckles. “I understand, Lucifer. Just know, if you ever want to talk, I’ll listen.” 

“Thank you, but I won’t,” he replied curtly before looking out the window and withdrawing his hand, curling in a bit on himself. Chloe put together the pieces of what he had told her in his more open moments and wondered suddenly just how similar the scene she had witnessed had been to the circumstances of his Fall and resolved herself to ask Maze before remembering that she may never get the chance.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to talk about any of this, neither do I, but I want to know, if Maze dies what happens? Does she just pop back down to Hell or--”

“Nothing,” Lucifer said, the word wet. “She’s gone. No heaven, no Hell. Gone. Only souls get an afterlife. Maze has no soul.” That was the last they said until they arrived home. Only as Ella threw open the door did it occur to Chloe that there would be questions about what had happened to Lucifer and Maze. Lucifer knew he had to look particularly ghastly when Ella didn’t even attempt to invade his space, but instead covered her mouth with her hands and muttered “ _ dios mio”. _

“Wrong deity, Ms. Lopez,” he replied tiredly. “Please move and allow me through. I need a drink and a bath. And narcotics. And . .. move. Please.” She stepped aside, looking incredulously from Lucifer, who was moving far too gingerly to Chloe who was hovering over him and trying to look like she wasn’t. 

“Y-you really shouldn’t mix those three things,” Ella said, concerned in her eyes before she remembered what he was. “They’ll kill you quick. Except . . . not you. They won’t hurt you, will they?”

“Probably won’t even help me,” he said, wishing that Chloe had more of an effect on his constitution than she did. “And bloody hell do I wish they would.” HE wanted to feel anything other than the guilt and pain that was threatening to swallow him whole, both for Maze's state and emotions he'd long buried from the last time he'd seen his brothers that had just been forcible exhumed. 

“What happened?” Ella asked, looking between them, noticing that there was a slight bruise forming on Chloe’s cheek, nothing compared to Lucifer. Neither of them seemed inclined to answer and she tapped her foot, waiting for one of them to answer while Lucifer forwent the glass and began drinking straight from the bottle, pausing long enough to snap, “Family drama, Ms. Lopez. Michael decided my face needed rearranging and that I might be better off without an appendage or two.” 

“Lucifer,” Chloe chided gently. “Trixie, baby, you want to take the tablet and your headphones and go to your room for a bit?”

“Is it about Daddy?” she asked, looking shrewdly at her mother.

“No,” Chloe answered honestly. “It’s tied to a case at work.”

“Murder,” Trixie said, nodding, and gathering up her things. “Not suitable for children. I get it.” 

After Trixie was gone, Ella looked disapprovingly at Chloe for lying to the girl. “What?” Chloe demanded, “It actually was related to a case. Even if Dan is more than likely peripherally involved. But that hasn't been confirmed yet so it's not about him. Do you remember the warehouse pentagram and the cross?” 

“The murder of James Marshall?” Lucifer added, before lighting something that was decidedly not tobacco. She wasn’t sure where he got it and knew that this wasn’t the time to discuss it but that there would need to be a time, if only because they were still getting drop in visits from CPS. Besides, Trixie was only human and could be harmed by drugs. She couldn't have them around her. But today was not the time. 

“Where the mother turned him in to some wackadoodle cult for a bogus exorcism of homosexuality?” Ella asked, waiting for them to nod. “Yeah, I remember that one. What does it have to do with . . . Maze,” Ella said, her expression falling as she connected the dots. “You needed me to come over because you needed to go with Linda because he called and said that Maze was hurt. Bad. They had Maze? Their bogus stuff worked on Maze?” 

“Almost killed her,” Chloe said, walking to take the decanter from Lucifer and pouring herself a glass offering him one as well. He waved her off.

“It’s not bloody well helping, is it?” he snarled, beginning to pace the floor. “Might as well be water. And they  _ did _ kill her, Detective. Just because she didn’t stay dead doesn’t mean that they didn’t kill her.”

“Maze died?!” Ella exclaimed before wincing and looking down the hallway towards Trixie’s room with an apologetic grimace. “But, she can’t  _ die _ die, right?”

“Wrong,” Lucifer corrected, taking a shuddering breath. “And if she does, poof. No more Maze.” He inhaled sharply through his nose and clinched his teeth. “And there’s not a blasted thing I can do about it.” 

“But you’re the devil,” Ella said, her voice small and innocent. “Surely there’s something you can do. Some control you can exert over a demon to keep her tethered to this plane of existence. You can’t just . . . she can’t . . .”

“I’m many things, Ella,” Lucifer said sadly. “A miracle worker isn’t one of them. Wrong deity, again, darling. And Maze is as tethered to this plane of existence as she can be. Her essence is tied to me, it’s how I found her. The connection is generally strong enough to pull her to me physically and allowed me to pull myself to her today but now,” he closed his eyes, his fingers stroking something neither of them could see, “it’s fragile, friable. Even just testing it, I can feel more of it coming undone. No, Mazikeen’s will is the only thing binding her to life and she is so tired. I . . . I don’t know that she desires to live.”

“Then why are you here?” Ella demanded. “You two get cleaned up and go to the hospital and remind her why she needs to live.” Lucifer looked like he was about to protest but Ella raised an eyebrow and he laughed softly, shaking his head. 

“As you command, Ella,” he muttered. “Up for a shower, Love?” he asked, turning to Chloe. She nodded, knowing that he was likely needing her presence as much as she needed his. She’d come so close to losing him today. If it wasn’t for Azrael she knew that he would have been taken from her. And she would have been powerless to stop it. As she helped him out of his clothing in their bathroom and more battered skin was revealed, each bruise was a squeeze on the vice that had closed around her chest until she almost couldn’t breathe. 

“Oh, Lucifer,” she muttered, ghosting her fingers over a large bruise on his thigh, likely from a kick given the location before moving to one right below his ribcage on his abdomen that would have surely knocked the breath out of him. She leaned into his touch as he stroked a tear off her cheek, surprised when a spasm of pain followed the sensation. Her own hand rose up and probed her cheek finding a large tender area, a quick review of recent events led her to the conclusion it was where Michael had struck her when she grabbed him. She glanced at Lucifer’s wounds and realized that even surprised, the archangel had to have pulled his punch or she’d be dead. 

“I’d offer to kill him for that,” Lucifer said, a weak parody of a smile on his face, “but he and I both gave it our best and neither of us can kill the other. I look rough but I assure you, I gave as good as I got. Though I’m sure that Raphael did heal all  _ his  _ wounds, the bastard. But, of course they left me to suffer even though it was all their fault, the pricks.” At the mention of his brothers, she did tear up, resting her cheek on his unbruised collarbone, her left hand coming around his chest and her right on his hip and clinging to him. His left hand pressed her to him as his cheek came to rest on the top of her head.

“I’ll be fine, Chloe,” he promised. “They did me no lasting damage.”

“They tried,” she sobbed. “They tried to cut off your wings and take you from me. And Maze still may . . . And I can’t do anything about it. And they could come back and…”

“They won’t,” Lucifer said with conviction. “Azrael gave them something to think about. We won’t see them again in your lifetime. And after that, I doubt I’ll care all that much about being on Earth.” She tried not to think about the implications of that statement as they entered the shower to rinse off. 

She was washing the dried blood from his back as gently as she could when he contorted away from her, bumping into the wall of the shower with a low moan. 

"Shit, shit," she muttered, withdrawing her hands in fear of causing more damage. "I'm sorry, Lucifer. I didn't mean to hurt you." When no reassurance or scathing retort came she made her way around him to find his face both empty and gutted simultaneously. Her heart sank as she realized what it meant. Slowly, gently, she stroked along his cheek, wanting to let him know that she was there but mindful of his injuries. He pressed more firmly into her touch a shuddering breath and a small sound of distress in his throat. The only sound for the next few seconds were his ragged breaths, the gentle rainfall of the shower And then he spoke, his voice barely audible, "And so passed Mazikeen, Eldest of the Lilim, Right-Hand to The Lord of Hell," before switching to the guttural language she'd heard both him and Maze speak on rare occasions. When he was done, he glanced at the ceiling, melismatic sounds falling from his lips as silent tears fell from his eyes, his expression filled with such intense suffering that Chloe’s already broken heart ground to powder at the sight of it. When he stopped speaking, dejection entered the mix and he sank to his knees, unable to summon the energy to remain standing and Chloe went with him. Sitting in the floor of their shower with him nearly in her lap as she held him and stroked his hair as the Devil himself wept.

* * *

God was sitting in His workshop tinkering with one of His many projects when a voice wafted across His mind filled with such anguish and desperation and desolation that he found His attention captivated.  _ Why did You take her, Father? She was the only thing that made Hell bearable. Is it not enough that You’ll eventually take the Detective to the Silver City. Did You have to take her too? Am I not to be allowed anyone? Was Azrael wrong? Is this really what You think I deserve? Eternity alone? _

Lucifer. His lost, fallen child. Once His favorite. Brilliant, witty and oh so very willful. He could remember when things were good between them, moments that had been bittersweet even as they occurred, as He knew that they could not last. Pride, desire, ability, wit, and Will, things that had made Samael perfect for aiding Him in forming the multiverse, were also things that were incompatible with Samael being content with a placid life in the Silver City. That was why They had fought, He and the Goddess. She had wanted Him to destroy Samael as soon as his usefulness had ended, before he could do as He knew he would and break from the fold, Will himself and his siblings the gift of Free Will that They had been unwilling to give them in the beginning. She said that allowing that would be the end of paradise. But He disagreed. It was something that He had long desired for all of His children to have, but once They had created Samael, He lost the ability to shape things that were already, only those that would be. That ability He had given to His son, His Lightbringer. 

And things were good. For many, many years. Until the day He dreaded came to pass. Samael asked Him for Free Will, demanding it for himself and his siblings. “That is something that I cannot give to you, My Son,” God had said, knowing as He did that He cemented their eventual falling out, seeing the first spark of resentment alight in Samael, prepared to catch fire and incinerate everything. And then it did and even He was powerless to stop it. The problem with omniscience and omnipresence is knowing that bad things will happen and yet that they must for things to be as they will. While it would have been within His power to stop Samael from gifting himself and his siblings Free Will, the person he would become, Lucifer, would never have been happy in the Silver City. Something would always have been missing, and he would have suffered. But He couldn’t watch as Samael began the act that would sever their bond, so He turned His consciousness from His favorite son. The problem with Free Will, and why She so opposed it in the beginning, was that even He could not predict the choices of those with it unless He looked ahead. He chose not to, not wanting to live the fallout of Samael’s choices twice.

When He saw Samael at the trial, He wished He had. While He had known that His children would fear the new autonomy within themselves and blame Samael, He hadn’t expected them to be so savage with their brother. As Samael knelt before him, broken, battered and bleeding His heart broke. Even more when he looked up at Him, brown eyes pleading for guidance and asked “What is it you desire, Father?” 

He shook His head, knowing that He could not answer that question without impinging upon Samael’s free will, His desires automatically overriding His sons. So, instead, He deflected, hating Himself as He did, “I gave you that ability, Samael. It is not one that you can use against me.” 

“Then just tell me,” he had begged, trying ineffectively to curl in on himself as pain shot through his body from the injuries his siblings had wrought. “You had an end-game in this. What is it? What do you want from me? Why did you give me the ability to see what others desire and to have desires myself if not to let me use them? Why can I not have free will? You’re giving it to the humans. Am I not more deserving? If you didn’t want me to want it, why did you let me have the ability to want? That was a cruel and flawed design Father. And I hate you for it. I hate you for making me this way.” And there it was. The resentment and hatred He had known was coming. And the outcome that He had dreaded. Samael would have to go elsewhere. Somewhere outside of His influence where he could exert his own Free Will. And He couldn’t explain it without compromising Samael’s desires, his freedom. The curse of Command. 

“Go to Hell, my son,” God said simply. “You are no longer welcome here. Throw him down.” The shock and horror in Samael’s eyes almost made Him take it back but He couldn’t. Samael had to be free to make his own choices, free from Command. Away from Him. Hell could serve as that. An empty realm that Samael could mold to his own desires, make as he would. But even as He knew it was the only way, He couldn’t watch. As He walked away, She looked at him smugly and He knew that They would never recover, not if She could take pleasure in this. As Samael struggled, cursing Him and his siblings, He turned his mind from His son. If He couldn’t interact, He wouldn’t observe. He would grant Samael full autonomy. If He watched, He would want to interfere and that couldn't be. Not if Samael was to be free. 

Eons passed with no contact. And then Lilith happened. From the moment she was created, she reminded Him of Samael. Strong, willful. And like Samael, she was not meant to be less than she could be. She railed at Adam, refusing all his advances and instructions, too proud to concede. She made His heart ache and He wondered if He hadn’t created her longing for Samael. Perhaps He had. And He’d come too close. That same fire and hatred that had burned in his eyes burned in hers when He’d come to her and asked, “What would make you happy?” 

“Freedom,” she’d snarled. “To not be bound to  _ him _ . Defined by  _ him _ . To be able to make my own choices. For me and my children.”

“So you desire freedom and children?” God had asked. She’d nodded curtly. “So be it. You will go to Hell where you will be free of Adam. There you will bear fatherless children, but without a father, they will have no souls. You will have to raise them well, teach them to be good. Or they will be demons.” 

“What, I--” she began only to disappear with a wave of His hand and appear in Samael’s realm. Someone with a like spirit to keep him company. Samael had always been good with the little ones, with Azrael especially. He would do well with Lilith’s children. God was satisfied that He had done well as well and kept His mind from visiting Samael’s realm, trying to give His son the freedom he had desired. Samael, Lilith, they would never do well with His involvement. With that in mind, He created Eve, naïve, sweet Eve. Opposite of Samael and Lilith in every way, made from Adam’s rib to complete him and he her. And He warned her, them both, away from the tree She had created; the tree that would bring them shame, corruption, and sin. Though He wished She had not done it, He could not undo what She had done anymore than She could undo His wishes. 

But they ate. And of course Samael was there when they did, the mischievous child. In the brief glance that He allowed Himself, unable to look too long without the desire to interact--the inadvertent Command that would arise--Samael looked well, whole and hale. Through the terror as he cowered by the rock while trying to look as though he wasn’t ate at His heart. He almost reassured him, but was afraid of forcing him to feel fine just because He wished it and turned His attention instead to Adam and Eve, turning both His eyes and His consciousness from Samael.

That meeting haunted Him for some time. It was why He decided to intervene and bless the Deckers with a child. They were kind people. Good people who would raise a woman strong enough to hold her own against Lucifer’s stubbornness. That could have been the end of His involvement, but there was one piece that had to be in place; she had to be immune to Lucifer’s control of desire. There was no other way that he could interact with her without fear that he was forcing her emotions. Only this way could there be a partnership and consent. He looked far enough ahead to ensure that they would cross paths and chose the right time for her conception, and then He tuned out again to allow things to progress as they would. They would find each other and then they could do as they would. 

And then Lucifer prayed. His heartfelt plea for her safety. And a promise to be a good son that He never needed or wanted. Just as now, it drew His attention. As His consciousness opened to Lucifer’s life, He saw many things simultaneously, one more troubling than the others. She had escaped. As His son died--immortal blood spilled for a mortal woman and her child--God showed him his mother’s cell. A warning that She--far more dangerous than He--had escaped and would pose a threat before He healed His son and blinded Himself once more to Lucifer’s life. 

As He opened once more to His son in response to Lucifer’s pain, He felt tears spring to His eyes. Recent event poured through his mind, suffering and pain atop suffering and pain and confusion. Oh, the poor child. All of them. As He focused on them, more facets came to light, peripheral players that would not have merited His notice otherwise; many mortal women, a child. All female. But which of them was the “she” Lucifer had spoken of? A quick thought and Mazikeen’s face swam to the forefront--all of her life with Lucifer--all his suffering she had witnessed flashed and stole His breath. And then a hospital room. A weeping blond woman with black glasses--Linda Martin--many nurses and technicians and a physician. 

“Stop,” he said softly, shaking his head. “It’s been thirty minutes with no response. It’s time to call it. Time of death seventeen forty-five. Is there family I can notify?” Linda shook her head.

“I . . . I’ll tell him,” she whispered, knowing both that Lucifer already knew and that the poor doctor didn’t deserve his wrath for delivering the news. Lucifer in pain could be cruel.

“Is there a funeral home, or . . . she’s rather young,” the doctor said, looking up as a gently spoken nurse touched his arm and nodded. He left and she took over, “would you like us to give you some referrals? There are a few that we work with regularly. Some low cost options if you need that.” Linda dissolved into hysterical laughter at the idea of Lucifer needing low cost funerary services--or any for that matter. Laughter that became tears as she looked at the dead body of her friend. Telegraphing her intentions, the nurse placed her arms around the weeping woman and allowed her to cling and cry. 

“She was supposed to live forever,” Linda sobbed. The woman nodded, knowing that nothing she could say would be enough. It never was. It didn’t matter if the person who died was 19 or 99, there was nothing that made it better. 

It was too much for Him. Lucifer, Chloe, Linda, Cindy--a nurse who didn’t even know the demon--Tommy, James, Sanjev, Annie, Laura. All of this suffering and it had been caused in His name. Anger He hadn’t felt in eons surged through Him and He decided that this could not be. By dying, she had moved from things that  _ are _ into things that could be and back into his influence. With a thought, He restarted her heart, healing it enough that it would not stop again from this, healing her mind from both the bleeding and the lack of blood flow. She would survive this and come out intact. It was His Will. He didn’t keep his mind on the hospital room after it was accomplished, hearing the nurse yell for the doctor and hearing them exclaim that it was a miracle while across town Lucifer’s head shot up in surprise and he laughed, more tears streaming down his face as he declared, “She’s alive! Chloe, she’s alive!” And with a whoop of joy he was on his feet, heading to the door.

“Clothes, Lucifer!” Chloe snapped, stumbling naked after him still dripping from the shower and grabbing two towels, wrapping one around herself and chasing after His son just as Ella shrieked and closed her eyes, cursing him in Spanish for his nakedness while simultaneously thinking that he might really be God’s gift to women. He smiled before rage filled him once more, a woman in jail praying to Him for aid--Samantha--drawing both his attention and his ire. She was only audible because she was involved with Lucifer and was the direct cause of his pain. Not since Adam and Eve had He taken a direct hand in the goings-on of Earth, but this time He was going to make an exception. These so-called “soldiers of God” would serve as a lesson to those who would seek to harm His children in His name. The entire organization would be eradicated by His hand. and then He would speak with His children and correct their misconceptions about His opinion of Lucifer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue got divided into parts as well. One more in this one my lovelies. And, after I get a few other projects done there might be a sequel. I did make it a series just in case I decided that I want to write more. Plot bunnies do abound.


	29. Epilogue: Omega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all wraps up.

After a brief trip back to their room, Lucifer was dressed and ready to go to the hospital and see Mazikeen, hopefully healthy judging by the strength of the renewed bond. Ella had never seen him so casual or disheveled, forgoing a vest and jacket and rolling his sleeves up to the elbow. He’d only given his hair a cursitory bit of attention and pieces had escaped his attention and were curing slightly as they dried. With his bruised face and wild eyes, it made him look a bit crazy. He headed for the deck only to stop as Chloe called his name.

“Lucifer? You need keys,” she said, dangling them from a finger and swinging them slightly. “And me. Unless you intend to fly, in which case you are on your own. No matter what you say about it, people aren’t meant to travel like that.”

“I . . . well, I was but . . . do you desire to come, Love?” he asked, uncertainly. “I know how you feel about hospitals. And the spawn needs tending. I’d assumed. . . “

“I want to be there for you, yeah?” she said, stepping towards him and placing a hand on his cheek. “This isn’t going to be easy to see, Lucifer. She’s not going to be well. Not yet. And . . . I mean, it’s Maze. Strong, indestructible Maze in a hospital bed. You really shouldn’t go alone.”

“She’s right,” Ella agreed. “Besides, I’m not doing anything. Margrett is molting and there’s feathers everywhere at my place. Looks like a pillow went poof, you know? I’ll stay here with the little chica. You guys go. Keep me in the loop.” Lucifer shifted slightly before nodding sharply.

“Driving it is then, lead on Darling,” he said gesturing for the door. He didn’t voice it aloud, but when he took a moment to think about it, flying might have been beyond him anyway. His hand went for the knob to open the door for her when he froze. Something was wrong. There was something in the air, in the ground itself. It was as if the entirety of the world was holding its breath, waiting for something. It set all his hair on end and raised goosebumps across his flesh. Without conscious thought his wings materialized, also bristling in response to the raw power he could feel coursing through the air. Never had he felt anything on the scale of what was pulsing across his senses. Scale aside . . . It almost felt like . . . Dad? No. It couldn’t be Dad. Not Him. Not when they had so narrowly avoided disaster. Suddenly there wasn’t air and his world condensed to one thought: Not Dad.

“Lucifer?” Chloe asked, moving into his sightline but not touching him as she tried to catch his eyes, recognizing panic when she saw it. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his eyes wild and unseeing, wings poised to defend or attack, body ridgid. No. Touching him would be bad. 

“Lucifer, honey?” Chloe repeated, softly, levely and sighed in relief as his eyes tracked to her, still distant and unfocused, not seeing her but at least registering that she was there. “Hi, that’s it, sweetheart. Lucifer, what’s going on?” His eyes locked on hers, recognizing her as he breathed her name like a prayer. She nodded, slowly but made no move in his direction. Quicker than she could register, he grabbed her, placing her in a corner and backing up to it, shielding her from view with his body and wings. 

“Lucifer, what’s going on?” she asked, his behavior worrying her, knowing that his senses were more powerful than hers and that he could detect things she never would. “Is someone coming? Trixie?” Before the word was out of her mouth, her daughter was in her arms, Lucifer having retrieved her in less than a blink.

“Mom?” the girl asked in confusion. “What--” she gestured at Lucifer and Chloe shook her head, holding her daughter more closely to her chest. “I don’t know baby,” she replied. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.” Lucifer hated himself for scaring them but couldn’t bring himself to reassure them, not when he could feel  _ Dad _ pounding through his skull and against all his senses. It was only a matter of seconds before Dad came and either sent him back to Hell or took the Detective or the child away to punish him. And then as soon as His presence came, it vanished. He looked around warily but there was no sign of Dad, physical or otherwise. 

“The hospital can wait,” he said, stepping forward but not putting his wings away, the millisecond it took to materialize them a millisecond too long if Dad did show up. “I’ve no intention of leaving home or letting you two out of my sight tonight. I . . . I think . . .no, I  _ know _ Dad was on Earth. And . . . I-I-I don’t know why but I don’t trust it. You too, Ella. You get to have a platonic slumberparty with the Devil, a distinction in an of itself, I assure you.”

“Wait,” Ella said, skipping over the last bit in favor of what had come before, “Dad?  _ Your  _ Dad. As in God? Capital "g" God was on Earth? Why?”

“Well if I knew that, I’d probably already be hurtling my way back to Hell on fire, wouldn’t I?” Lucifer snapped. “I don’t know why He’d be here or why He didn’t just come deal with me directly, since I’m sure He plans to deal with me since Michael and his lot failed.”

“God,” Chloe breathed. 

“For once, I’ll allow it,” Lucifer groaned. “But, until I do know, I have no intention of going anywhere and neither should either of you.” No sooner had he finished speaking than both Ella and Chloe’s cellphones began sounding a siren page. 

“We’re not going to have a choice,” Chloe said, looking down at the phone that was still alarming despite her having pressed the button to read the text. “All-Hand-On-Deck. Emergency! All personnel respond to an explosion. I can’t not go, Lucifer. Neither can Ella. Ignoring this would be criminal, not just grounds for firing. You don’t have to come but . . .” 

“Bloody Hell, woman! Yes I do,” Lucifer sighed. “I can’t leave you undefended. Nor the child. So I have to come. As does the urchin. We have no childcare yet. Especially not childcare that could withstand the celestial . . . Wait,” he closed his eyes and folded his hands, seconds later Amenideal appeared. 

“Hello, brother,” Lucifer said warmly, pushing Trixie towards the Firstborn. “no time for questions. You’re babysitting. Fluffy, don’t eat him. Nobody in or out. And no one takes the child. Even Dad. Understand?”

“Father?” Amenideal asked in confusion as Trixie grinned up at him. “What does Father have to do with anything? And . . . I’m not a babysitter, Lucifer.”

“Dad was on Earth. The Detective, Ms. Lopez and I have to respond to an emergency for work and you are the only one I trust to protect the child. Well, you and Fluffy,” Lucifer amended. “Will you do it?”

“You trust me?” Amenideal asked, grinning widely.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Guard the child. Call me if Dad shows up.” Without waiting for an answer, Lucifer threaded his arm through Chloe’s and ushered her and Ella to the car, looking around as though he expected lightning to descend from the sky and smite them where they stood. 

“Do you know what that was about?” Amenideal asked, looking at Trixie.

“Nope,” she said, with a shrug. “Lucifer’s weird sometimes. Do you like puzzles?” 

“I can’t say that I have ever done one,” he said. “Show me.” Trixie smiled and took his hand. As she chattered and bounced from one subject to the next with exuberance, he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. Children really were delightful creatures. 

* * *

Lisa rubbed her hands over her eyes as she watched the footage from the warehouse. Shock swept over her as Morningstar’s admittedly attractive visage was replaced by scarred red skin, glowing eyes and massive white wings. And then he summoned fire. And burned all doubt of his identity from her mind. She had to admit that the white wings were a real shock, she’d expected bat wings. Actually, she’d expected that Dan was wrong about him. That at the most he, like the Smith woman, was possessed by a demon. But no demon could do that. She knew now with certainty that Dan was right; Lucifer Morningstar  _ was  _ the devil. And then the video went blank for hours. The next it showed was Morningstar, Chloe Decker, and two unknown women standing in the warehouse. The dark headed woman suddenly sprouted dark grey wings and disappeared. Another demon? A devil queen?

“His sister, actually. Azrael, the angel of death,” a male voice said to her right. “Quite a sweet thing, really. As you will shortly learn.” Lisa whirled around in shock, almost knocking over her chair in the process to see a tall, slender middle-aged man with dark hair and olive skin leaning casually against the doorless wall behind her. 

“Jesus! How in the Hell did you get in here?” she demanded, only for the man to laugh softly.

“Hell had nothing to do with it,” he said, shaking his head. “Wrong afterlife, my dear. Though the one I do believe that you are destined for.” He chuckled darkly before saying, “that will give you a bit of distinction. The first  _ literally  _ God-damned human in eons. Though not the only. I do not like when people hurt others in my name.” 

“And what is your name,” she demanded, moving to rise only to be stopped by a glare from his cold grey eyes. “You shouldn’t threaten people. If you leave now I won’t call the police.” 

“Call them,” he said with a shrug. “I am beyond their jurisdiction. As for my name, I, like my son, have many. Some you may be familiar with are  Elohim, El-Shaddai, Yahweh, Jehovah, Adonai, Abba but I also answer to  Allah, Bhagavan, Akal Purakh and thousands of others in countless tongues both remembered and forgotten. For now it will serve you to know that I Am.”

“So what? You think you’re God, The Father?” Lisa laughed, a nervous chuckle to cover her anxiety at the knowledge that if Satan was real, God, too, would be real and could take corporeal form. What she couldn’t understand was why He seemed angry with her. She had done His will, as ordained by the Archangel Michael centuries ago. 

“Michael?” the man demanded. “What has he to do with this?” Lisa trembled, knowing that she hadn’t said that aloud. This man, God?, had read her mind. 

“He founded our order,” she replied. “Centuries ago. Gave us the signs, the spells to bind Satan and his demons should they walk the Earth.” God closed His eyes. Of course Michael had been involved. He had loathed his brother for Samael’s “betrayal.” But even if Michael had set the order to defend the world from Lucifer, unnecessary though that ultimately was, it did not excuse their actions against others. 

“Your order has not done My will,” God said sharply, feeling no remorse as she cowered. “It was never My will for you to make others suffer. For you to kill and torture in My Name. Because of your order, people are dead. A child, dear to My child, is fatherless because you corrupted him in his time of crisis. You create zealots for you, not followers of Mine.” 

“No,” she said, rising and glaring at Him. “Everything I have done has been for the glory of God. If you say it is not then you are not God.” 

“I  _ had _ hoped you could be reasoned with,” God said sadly. “That your Free Will would enable a different destiny for you than this one. That when faced with Me you would surprise Me, humanity has at times. I am sorry.” With a wave of his hand, she wasn’t. He caught her soul before it could rise, holding the dimly glowing greyish blob in His hands and summoning Azrael. 

“Father?” she said hesitantly, at His side quicker than a thought. 

“Hello, My Daughter,” He said, stroking her cheek with His right hand, the soul in His left. “I am afraid that I am going to make work for you.” 

“I will do as You ask, Father. Always,” Azrael said, leaning into the touch. “It has been too long since I’ve seen You. I welcome any instruction You see fit to give. Forgive me, but why do You have a soul?” 

“This soul is one of the many who seek to destroy your brother and those he loves,” God sighed. “And they do it in My name. I ask that once I have razed their order from the Earth, you ferry the souls to Hell. They will have no place in My kingdom.”

“You mean to kill them all?” Azrael asked, horrified. Despite what Lu thought, Father wasn't usually into wanton destruction. That had been Mother. 

“Knowledge gained cannot be ungained,” God sighed. “Even were I to erase it, it could be recovered with enough dedication. Michael has given this cult sufficient knowledge to harm Lucifer. Destroy him even. Those that possess that knowledge cannot be allowed to exist, Daughter. However, no. I will not kill them all. Only the ones that can destroy your brother. The rest, they will live as a testament to what happens when evils are committed in My name. Then I will destroy their libraries, digital and physical. And then Michael and I will have a discussion.”

“What about Lu?” Azrael asked. “He . . . he won’t understand why you did this. He’ll think it was another manipulation.” God sighed, knowing that she was right and that such a blatant involvement could not go without explanation. But He couldn't talk with Lucifer without accidentally overriding his free will. And then he had an idea. 

“He likes you,” God said softly. “He always has. I will give you one final job after you have ferried these souls, deliver a message to your brother. He’ll listen to you. Won’t attack you on sight.”

“Maybe because I’ve never attacked him,” she offered, and God nodded sadly. 

“Perhaps,” God sighed. “And that, too, is My fault. When you have finished with the souls I’m about to destroy, swing by the workshop. I’ll have a letter for you to take to Lucifer explaining everything.” He could feel her begin to argue with him only for the passive Command in His words to take over and override her unvoiced suggestion that He just talk to Lucifer, cementing His decision that He could not speak to His son. 

“Yes, Father,” she said instead, taking the soul from His hands and placing it in a bag on her shoulder. “Should I wait for the rest?” 

“Yes,” He said, reaching out and touching the mind of everyone in the world, purging from existence those whose knowledge of forbidden signs posed a true threat to His son and those who were too corrupted by the Militibus to be redeemed. The souls that were released, He summoned to His side and Azrael collected them for transport. Those who were not in possession of dangerous knowledge or unredeemable, He Commanded from the buildings. The buildings, He destroyed so that not even the foundations remained, planting Knowledge into the minds of the witnesses that God had done this and that further actions in His name would meet the same response. His final act before retreating to the Silver City was a Command to spread the word that Lucifer was not evil and that it was not His will that he be persecuted. 

* * *

They arrived at the site of the All-Hands-On-Deck call, which, coincidentally was the location Samantha had given for the headquarters of the Militibus ex Deo (before mysteriously kealing over dead in the interrogation room) only to find that the building had been obliterated. It almost appeared that it had been struck by a meteor, a deep crater where the building had once sat. Chloe looked at Lucifer in shock, to see that he, too, was looking at the hole with a mix of awe and horror. 

“Must have been a meth lab,” one of the unis said, whistling. “What do you think? Ten feet deep?”

“Closer to fifteen,” added another. “So, maybe a gas line?” 

“Or a divine smiting,” Lucifer said tonelessly, shock the only emotion on his usually expressive face as he studied the crater and the odd feeling in the air from earlier, something he hadn’t felt since Eden; Dad. It was faint, no more than an odd sensation in the air, the smell of ozone after lightning. Dad was long gone. But why had He been there at all?

“A smiting?” Chloe asked, horrified. “I thought God was more hands-off. Lucifer, do you think it was a smiting? Was that what--” 

“That’s what the witnesses said,'' Detective Garcia said coming up behind them. “Said that God came down from the sky, killed a bunch of folks and destroyed the building and the evidence. But they  _ are _ some wack job cult. Same one Espinosa got tangled up with, from what I hear. Same one that nearly took out that bounty hunter, Smith. Looks like they did a number on you too when you tried to rescue her. Good job getting away. Makes sense that they’d target you two. Lucifer and the "demon bounty hunter." Perfect targets for religious wackos. You really should kick your parent’s asses for that name, man. Or change it.” 

“Any sign of explosives?” Ella asked, trying to change the topic from Lucifer and his parents and wacko cults. “Any body parts? Anything for us to do?”

“Nah,” Garcia said with a shrug. “Bomb squad already cleared the place. No explosive residue. No fragments of body. Hell, there’s no rubble. It’s just like the building was . . .”

“Smote,” Lucifer supplied smugly. “Wiped from creation like it never was. Scooped from existence."

"Accurate," sighed another detective, Chou from narcotics. "And from what I hear, there's like fifteen more of these sites in the U.S. and a couple dozen world wide. News is saying it was a massive, coordinated terror attack. Apparently, at exactly the same time worldwide, a few people walked out of all the buildings around the world, and then the buildings were scooped out of the earth. Poof. All that is left is a crater. To rubble, no explosion. Nothing. And all the witnesses worldwide are saying it was God."

"And Jim Jones got everyone to drink the Kool-aid," Garcia scoffed, rolling his eyes. "They're a cult, Steve. Of course they're publicity stunt gets attributed to God. It’s not like there aren’t global clocks and the internet to coordinate these things."

"I don't know, Jose," Steve said, shaking his head. "Have you seen any of the videos yet? The building's there and then just sucks in on itself like a black hole or some shit. It looks like God coulda done it."

Before anyone else could say anything, a male voice rang out over a bullhorn. "We wish to thank the LAPD for their timely response to this emergency summons. However, you are all dismissed. Given the nature, scale and distribution of the destruction, agencies with wider jurisdictions will be taking over. Thank you. Please disperse.”

“Fuckers,” muttered Jose. “Calling us down here and then dismissing us with a pat on the head. Let the adults handle this kiddies. I had shit I was doing.” 

“Absolute inconsiderate wankers, indeed,” Lucifer agreed before grabbing both Ella and Chloe by the arm and directing them back to the car. “Come, ladies, back to our previous engagement.” Chloe groaned at the look that Jose and Steve exchanged, knowing  _ exactly _ where their minds had gone but said nothing. With Lucifer’s reputation and their known relationship status it wasn’t as if they would ever believe that they and Ella  _ weren’t  _ having a threesome at the house. And denying it would only draw more attention. She was surrounded by mostly men and the word alone would draw attention. Nope. Better to just let it go. 

As soon as the car door was closed, Ella demanded, “spill, buddy. Was that building actually smote? As in God Himself willed it to non-existence?” 

“Biblically,” Lucifer muttered, looking at the crater with a mix of awe and horror. “It’s been eons but, trust me, Dad was here. His energy signature was like a bloody beacon.”

“So earlier?” Chloe began, referring back to the moment Lucifer freaked out at the house.

“Dad was smiting forty places simultaneously world-wide,” Lucifer said, with a faint humourless laugh. “What is it with Him and the number forty? Even though that was actually Mum. The Flood? Forty days and nights of rain? Actually, this is the first time He has ever smote anything. The rest of it was Mum.”

“The extinction of the dinosaurs?” Ella asked. “Was that just . . .”

“Freak accident,” Lucifer supplied. “Wrong place, wrong time. Giant asteroid. And Egypt was also a comedy of errors. Just a bad string of natural events, and one accidental prank on a shepard who seemed a bit too jumped up. How was I supposed to know that he’d interpret a cold fire bush as a sign from God to overthrow Egypt?” Chloe shook her head, not even prepared to deal with the fact that her boyfriend had caused the Exodus. Not today.

“So why do you think He did it?” Chloe asked softly. “I mean, destroying the cult that was after us, did He do it for us? Maze . . . she was dead too long, Lucifer. They only do codes for like fifteen, twenty minutes. She was dead longer than that. Do you think He--”

“No,” Lucifer said sharply. “He wouldn’t’ve. If only because I asked it. Well, not directly. I cursed at Him for killing her. If anything, He laughed. Manipulative bastard only wants to hurt me. He’d never do me a favor I didn’t ask for and offer Him an equal return. No, He was probably covering His tracks. They had divine knowledge, Chloe. He probably gave it to them.”

“That was Michael, actually,” came Azrael’s voice moments before she materialized in the back seat next to Ella. “And, boy, is Dad pissed at him. I have never seen Him that  _ livid.” _

“Really?” Lucifer asked dryly while Chloe struggled to correct but not overcorrect from where she had jerked the wheel when she was startled.

“Jesus, Azrael, don’t do that!” Chloe snapped, waving sheepishly to the car that she had almost hit. In her police cruiser. Lovely. 

“Sorry, Chlo,” Azrael said, while Chloe rolled her eyes at this nickname. What was it with angels and being unable to use given names? “Anyway, yeah, Dad’s pissed. Apparently Michael founded that cult centuries ago. To, well, to kill you, Lu.”

“Charming, of course he did, the prick,” Lucifer grumbled. “Since he can’t just do it himself. Nope, has to get humans to do his dirty work. Oh, I’d love another shot at him, with a few demons this time.”

“You might get it,” Azrael said, looking annoyed when Lucifer looked up at her sharply. “As I said, Dad’s pissed. “From what I understand from the diatribe He was directing at your twin before sending me down here to give you a letter, you prayed. He heard and came down to save your demon and talk to your bullies. Who He obliterated.”

“Oh, their building,” Lucifer said, clinging to sarcasm as his world shifted on it’s axis. Dad had heard and acted. What would the price be? “Fat lot of good that’ll be. They’ll just regroup and we won’t even know where.”

“Not just the building, Lu,” Azrael said. “ Dad was incandescent with rage at what they did to you, wanted to do to you. He . . . He killed anyone from the cult with knowledge that could hurt you. I took the souls to hell myself.  _ Lots  _ of souls. He got involved for you, Lu.”

“And I suppose you’re here to collect?” Lucifer said, his voice tight and choked. “What is His price for this involvement? Huh?” Azrael’s heart broke for her brother, and she sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling tremors she couldn’t see. 

“There’s no price, Lu,” she said softly. “Or if there is, I don’t know about it. All He asked was that I deliver you this letter. Said that you’d probably take it best coming from me but that if you’d read it then  _ everything  _ would make sense. All of it.” She pulled a thick envelope from her bag and offered it to him. On the front of it, in his Father’s thin, spidery writing was his name. Not Samael. Lucifer.

“It’s not a trap, Lucifer,” Azrael said, capturing his terrified eyes with hers. “You know that I wouldn’t participate in anything like that, even if He asked it. I love you, Lu.”

“I know, Azrael,” Lucifer promised. “You’re the only one that never abandoned me. So, you think it’s safe?” She nodded, and, detecting no lie, he took the envelope, placing it in the inside pocket of his jacket along with his flask, which he pulled out taking a long drink wishing it would do more to steady his nerves. When thirty beats of his racing heart had passed without incident, he sighed. 

“Well, I haven’t blown up yet,” he declared. “So, Dad’s mad at Michael?” 

“Understatement,” Azrael said, snorting. “Oh, I wish you could see it, Lu. Michael actually looks sheepish.”

“Impossible,” Lucifer laughed. “That prick is the epitome of ego.”

“Worse than pre-me you?” Chloe asked incredulously.

“Yes,” the angelic siblings agreed simultaneously. 

“So, both of you can see her?” Ella asked, looking from Rae-Rae to the side of Chloe’s face and Lucifer’s eyes in the mirror. “I’m not crazy. Rae-Rae? You were telling the truth,” she said suddenly looking at Lucifer. “The day that I had to trace all that blood spatter because you were pacing while bleeding. My ghost friend is your sister. It was the truth.”

“Always,” Lucifer said just as Azrael said, “Lu never lies,” earning her a warm smile from their resident devil. 

“But, hey, I’m leaving you to field her questions,” Azrael said suddenly. “I’ve gotta get back and watch the show. I’ll tell you what happens later.”

“I’ll expect you,” Lucifer said.

“Please don’t appear out of nothing again,” Chloe said softly. “Not unless you want to be carting my soul to its final destination.”

“Use the door, yes?” Lucifer asked, shooting Chloe a worried glance and wondering if he needed to schedule her a check-up with a doctor. How often were humans supposed to have those things?

“Smell ya later,” Azrael said before disappearing from the back seat. 

“Never getting used to that,” Chloe sighed. “So, home or hospital?” 

“Home,” Lucifer said, rubbing the letter through the material of his jacket and checking his bond with Mazikeen finding it strong, firm and her sleeping. He would visit after she woke. He didn’t want to be there when she realized that she’d been resurrected by God. He allowed his mind to stroke hers softly and with no intention of waking her as his chest ached with the memory of her being gone. Why had his Father saved her? A demon? He could feel the weight of the letter against his chest. In it were the answers to everything. But not tonight. Tonight, he was going to spend the evening with his family, the people that loved him. He wasn’t going to worry about those that didn’t, or their reasons. No. For tonight, he would bask. For the first time in forever, there was no threat, no enemy. 

As they entered their home, Amenideal’s laughter was ringing through the house, Beatrice’s high giggles cutting through it. He smiled as Chloe smiled at her daughter’s joy. Ella came through and began gathering up her things to leave but he placed a hand on her arm.

“Stay for pizza?” he asked softly. “I’ll even order fresh. My treat for putting up with all this celestial nonsense.” 

“Can one of them have pineapple?” Ella asked, knowing before she did that he would say yes. Even if he hated it, Lucifer was never one to deny someone else’s desire. 

“Many of them may,” he said, smirking. “Hear that, Darling? Ms. Lopez believes that pineapple belongs on pizza.” He listened to the ensuing argument with a fond smile as he called his favorite pizza place and placed their order. He caught Amenideal’s confused expression over the heads of the bickering humans and nodded at him. Both women began pleading their cases to the Firstborn, who nodded sagely at them both, smiling softly at Beatrice, who had grabbed his hand and was bouncing as she expounded upon the merits of pineapple, much to the disgust of her mother. His business concluded, he came up behind Chloe and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against him as firmly as he dared. She grinned up at him, placing her hands over his.

“That’s the most evil thing you’ve ever done, you know?” she asked softly, gesturing at Beatrice, who looked as though she almost had his brother convinced, with her chin. 

“Hardly,” he countered with a sigh, refusing to elaborate on his sins. “I am the Devil, love.”

“Not to me,” she said with a quiet hum. “I love you, Lucifer.”

“And I you, Chloe,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. As he stood there, holding her and listening to his friends interact, he thought to himself that things couldn’t be better. Life was perfect, exactly as he would wish for it to be. He was happy. They were happy. His Father’s letter was burning a metaphorical hole in his pocket, but for tonight he didn’t want to know if it was all just some grand manipulation. For tonight it didn’t matter. Maybe it would tomorrow or maybe not. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know at all anymore how much of it was free will or manipulation, not now that he had the option to know whenever he wanted. Something about having it made him wonder if he even needed it. Especially the truth about Chloe. No, for tonight, he would bask in the love of people who cared for him and enjoy this of peace in the life of the Devil. 


End file.
